To Fix What Was Twisted
by arashi-enkou
Summary: AU: A new danger lurks on the horizon, carried by wings of death. There's more than one misguided angel in Heaven. "Presenting: La Tragédie du Corbeau." :TalimxTira: Rated for violence!
1. Upon the Breeze

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: Oooh, first Soul Calibur fic. Now, just to tell you, I don't know too much about histories and whatnot; I'm getting most of my information from SC Wiki and SC3 profiles.

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

--

:Prologue-Upon the Breeze:

--

_Water Mill Valley--Villiage of the Forgotten Children_

It was a warm wind, with the barest hints of the scents of summer and springtime traveling along the invisable currents, that told her things were were very, very wrong. Talim stared at the pink and orange rays of the fading sun, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip aching from where her teeth had scored it countless times. She took a deep breath, inhaling the air into her lungs and heart. Since her time here, treating the ill boy in the village, she had been denied access to the wind she loved dearly, and as such, had been denied the knowledge of the world. Now that the evil energy within herself and the boy had been eradicated, hundreds of age old whispers flooded her ears, making it difficult to sort it all out.

Then, to her horror, whispers of the cursed sword Soul Edge began to flutter in the currents of wind. She shot to her feet, red, silk ribbons dancing in the air in tune with the breeze's unheard melody.

"...What a foul wind," Talim muttered, narrowing her gaze as she looked upon the horizon. Her fingers twitched. Her duty as a priestess was urging her onward; find the malformation in the world and purify it. She looked up, spotted black birds circling in the air. One of their loose feathers drifted down and near her face; the very tip of it carressed her cheek, as if there was someone longing for the chance to meet her.

"Hey, Talim! Come on inside already!" Yun-seong called from one of the children's huts. "Dinner's ready!"

"I'll be there in a moment," Talim called back. She turned and hopped down from the roof to the wooden staircase that led up to it, following the winding path to the ground. She let out a sigh, letting her hand trail across the stones of the building, her ears still ringing from the malicious whispers upon the wind. Her cheek still tingled from the black bird's feather; her fingers lifted up and stroked the invisable mark made by the soft, black feather absentmidedly. As she made it down to the soft grass, she took a look at the warm light that spilled from beneath the crack of the doorway Yun-seong had been. The tinkling laughter of children made her heart ache, as a desicion formed in her mind. Instead of heading towards the hut, she dashed to her own abode, her footsteps soundless as she bounded up the staircase to the door. She worked quickly, gathering at least a week's worth of food, a change of clothes, and, of course, her dear weapons Syi Salika and Loka Luha. She put the clothes and food into a worn pack, and slung it over her shoulder.

She then wrote a quick note to Yun-seong; begging him to stay and protect the children, to keep them safe, and to continue giving the boy the neccesary herbs for the rest of his recovery. After attaching her elbos blades to a harness slung around her waist, she slipped from the window and dropped to the ground, her legs absorbing the impact. Talim his her grimace, but stood tall nonetheless.

"And here, it begins," she whispered very softly. She turned her head to the sky and gave a low whistle, one the echoed along the wind. She waited patiently, until a dark shape descended from the sky to land on her outstretched arm. The bird let out an appreciative coo as Talim stroked his head.

"Please, wait for me here, Alun," the girl said. "Watch over Yun-seong and the children; I can trust you with this task, can I not?"

The bird cocked his head to the side, and Talim received the impression that it reagrded her with offended eyes. She chuckled.

"Of course I can; forgive me." She leaned forward and pecked the bird atop his feathered head, whispering a low "Until I return, my friend." Then she raised her arm to the sky and the bird took off, alighting upon her roof as his newest perch. He let out a keen, which Talim took as a goodbye.

She turned on her heel and left the village, guided by the echoes of death and darkness that had once resided in her very own heart.

--to be continued--


	2. Hues of Black and Purple

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

--

:Chapter One: Hues of Black and Purple:

--

_Ostrheinsburg Castle--Battlement_

It was unsurprising that her journey had gone wrong. Talim frowned as the raft moved of its own will, pulled along by the fierce currents of the river. She rubbed at the skin of her heart, and recalled the words spoken by the man with the sythe had growled so ferociously.

_"I place my curse upon you, you with the power to fix what is twisted."_

She wondered what sort of curse it was; her own wind, the one she had been born with, wasn't showing any side effects at all. Yet, she reminded herself, linking her arms behind her back and closing her eyes. The wind here was foul, she noticed, the salty tang burning her nostirls and the back of her throat. A loud cry startled her, and Talim looked up to see a black bird, riding the twisted breeze. She bit her sore lip; her cheek tingled again, and she wondered why she remembered the soft carress so vividly.

--

**We need fun, we need blood. I want to play, play, play!**

"Yes, yes, in due time, in due time," she hummed, her muscles thrumming with anticipation. She bounced on her toes, sea green hair swaying with the movement. She let out a small giggle, unable to contain her pleasure. Her newest opponent was below, unsuspecting. Tira cocked her head to the side, her eyes glittering with anticipation. They alighted on the form of a young girl, who seemed unaware of Tira's prescence. The servant cackled softly. A strange power swirled around the girl, and her ravens delighted in...dipping towards her, as if confused whether to attack or alight upon the young girl. Someone of that caliber...

"Oooh, she looks strong," the green clad girl hissed, licking her lips. "Very strong..."

**Kill kill kill, let her blood spill out on the floor, kill her, do it!!**

Tira wasted no time; she sprung from her position and landed, catlike, on the other side of the girl's raft, her ring blade making a loud clang on the wood, to the assasin's disgust. The girl whirled around, weapons drawn, the red ribbons twirling around her lithe body, as if caught in a tornado. The young girl's power seemed to thicken the air between them, and Tira's eyes locked with her prey's. For a moment, something foreign and hot thudded inside of her heart. Her opponents soft, chocolate brown gaze made her skin itch; an uncomfortable feeling that quickly grew annoying. Still, the urge to kill, to maim, to rend apart anything and everything overcame her discomfort.

_She's pretty; so very pretty. _The though was foreign, and not quite her own; or maybe it was. The green haired girl was never quite certain who was talking in her head, or even if the thoughts matched her own feelings anymore.

**Yes, yes, such a shame to rip that pretty face to shreds! When we kill her, we'll just slash her body to ribbons, avoid that pretty face...**

"You're going to look beautiful when you die," Tira said aloud, grinning maniacally as she dragged her ring blade over the wood of the raft, the weapon making an unholy screech upon the surface. "I'll engrave your face in my memory, if you're any fun! Let's go, then, no use in dragging this out!"

The girl's lips moved in an inaudible murmur; most likely a prayer to her gods, Tira surmised with a pout. Curiosity bubbled. _Would her voice be as pretty as her face?_ Well, she was about to find out...At that, the green-clad woman gave a wicked chuckle and began to swing her weapon around in her hands, the thick gloves protecting the palms of her hands. Then, her opponent looked long and hard at Tira's face; but what the girl sought to find, Tira didn't know.

"Well, come then!" she snapped when the girl's gaze lingered for far too long. "Are you going to strike, or should I just kill you already!?"

"...You won't kill me, _espíritu maligno_," the girl said, a husky lilt to her words. She grimaced. "It...does not have to be this way. Your...wind is distorted; if you will allow me, I will fix it. I can fix you."

_She talks as if we need fixing..._

**Oh, now we can see that she'll look gorgeous before she dies, we have to remember that lovely face, it will stay with us forever...**

"Awww," Tira whined, though it came out more as a sneer. "Does that mean you don't want to play with me?" The girl gave her another look; it seemed as if the chocolate gaze of her opponent seemed to pierce straight into her corrupted soul. The same one she had given Tira only mere moments ago. The way Tira's heart sped up in response was...unnerving.

"...Very well," her opponent sighed. "It seems I will have to use force. Forgive me, _espíritu maligno_, but this path you chose yourself. You may strike first; I am ready."

**She thinks we need a free strike?! Such insolence! We should show her our power, shouldn't we?! Kill, KILL!**

Tira snarled. "Oh! Now you've made me angry!" Her mind slowly began to slip, the fragile fabric of her mind fading into a haze of red. Her lips curled. "Now I'll just have to take my time in killing you, little girl. I'll cut you to pieces, oh so slowly..."

Then she lunged.

--

Talim bit back a yelp as her enemy lunged at her with all the furiousity of a jungle cat. No; a demon. The priestess ducked the horizontal swing of the green-clad girl's odd weapon, and managed to block the vertical slice that followed. What was worse, the girl wasn't only fast; she was confusing. At times, her swings were lightning quick, as if something had enraged her to the point of no return.

Those were the easiest and most predictable of attacks.

At other times, she was calm, taunting the priestess; Talim noted the slow, elegant moves, and knew her opponent was a trained killer, an assasin at best. And, as if things weren't already difficult enough, the girl was hard to hit, as she slipped through her weapon, throwing off Talim's aim and concentration.

But the thing that truly threw her off, time and again, was the warped, twisted, _writhing_ wind that the girl was steeped in. Hues of purple and black coated her enemy, hugging her as close as a lover's embrace. The weapon itself, even, was coated in darkness and, more than likely, in death and blood. She recognized the evil festering inside of the girl as Soul Edge's taint; after all, the same evil had once thrived in her very own body not too long ago.

Talim flinched as the razor sharp edge of the ring blade scored a hit on her cheek. She let out a small hiss of pain and evaded as many strikes as she could. A slice across her side, along her arm, over and over again. The metal glinted in the sun, deadly, beautiful; the birds that flew overhead cried out, a symphony that echoed in her ears, taunting her. The flat edge of the weapon caught her off guard and sent her skidding away. Talim took in deep, wheezing breaths. She was cold, shaken to the core. Her cuts and scrapes throbbed in pain, and Talim swallowed, blinking the sweat from her eyes. The girl caught her gaze and seemed to freeze, the dark smile on her green lips slipping away. For a moment, the wind stilled. For a moment, neither breathed.

For a moment, the blacks and purples of the girl's aura fluttered, showing wisps of white. _Pure. She's pure. I can see it now._

Talim reacted. She charged her opponent, reaching out and scraping the edges of the white wisp with her fingertips. The girl shrieked, as though in pain, and swung up into the edge of the elbow blade. The wind priestess reached down, with the hand that had grasped the white wisp of wind and yanked the girl's left leg out from under her body. Right before Talim could knock the girl unconscious, the green clad demon reared her legs back and slammed them into Talim's stomach, sending the other girl flying back onto the wood of the raft. The impact shook the surface; the green clad girl tumbled off and into the water, a loud, wailing howl escaping her lips.

The birds shrieked, all erupting into a storm of black feathers. They did not attack Talim, which confused her greatly, but they swarmed over the surface where the girl had fell, cawing.

Her opponent didn't surface.

_She can't swim._

Shoving her elbow blade back into the harness around her waist, Talim practically sprinted over to the side of the raft and dived in, her body slicing the water. The young girl had to bite back a scream, as the salt washed over and into her wounds and burned them like fire, as they sealed shut. She cracked open her eyes, saw a blurry green blob, and kicked harder.

--

_No, no, no, not again, I can't breathe--_

**Have to get out, have to live, we can't die, not yet--**

Tira's lungs seemed to flood with water; the weight of her weapons seemed to drag her to the bottom quicker. The assasin refused to release it, however, as it was the the symbol of herself and of her life. It was the only thing she owned, and she would drag it to the very depths of hell to fight the Devil himself, if she could. Her legs flailed in the water, and every second or so she would open her eyes and see the shimmering light of the sun, wavering upon the surface.

A dark shape moved toward her, then. She caught the sight of red ribbons and black hair, a glimpse of deepest, chocolate brown as the very child she had been trying to kill swam closer. Small hands wrapped around her own arm, and Tira noticed that she had sunken to the ground of the river. Her vision started to fail; the girl noticed this and dragged her close, tugging at her hand to release the heavy weapon.

**No, no, we won't let go, we can't...**

_It's all I have left..._

Her mind slipped again; black instead of red. Her fingers loosened around her weapon, and the child ripped her away, and began to swim towards the light.

_--_

Talim broke the surface of the water, struggling to keep the taller and heavier girl's head out as well. She sputtered, and kicked, treading water. The green clad girl slumped in her arms was far too close to death, and the chill of her tainted wind seeped into Talim's skin. The smaller girl shivered, and ignored the effects as she tried, in vain to drag them both to land. The black birds, ravens, actually, swooped down. Two caught at the ribbons of Talims arms the others latched onto her clothes, helping in her conquest to the shore. When Talim's sandals met wet mud, she dug in and heaved with all her might, yanking her charge up and out of the water, gasping for breath. She slumped into the wet sand, wiping water from her eyes and shoving back her damp hair. The birds flocked in a circle around them, and all of their beady, red eyes focused on her face.

Talim ignored them and turned toward the demon in her arms. To her surprise, girl's hair was coated in nothin more than paint; as Talim wiped away the muck, she saw the roots of dark, raven wing hair. She flipped the green clad girl over onto her back and pumped twice onto her chest; water was spat out at the action. The girl, however, remained unconscious. Talim let out a sigh, slid back, and took a look at the ravens on the sand. One went up to her, boldly and let out a caw. It made a pointed look at her left arm, which Talim extended. The bird then fluttered up to her arm and used it as a perch.

The oddest feeling jolted through her as the wind priestess saw the black pupils, surrounded by red. It seemed the bird's eyes shone with fire. Talim swallowed and closed her left eye when the raven leaned over and neared it with it's sharp beak. She held her breath, yet relaxed, and the pointed tip gently grazed her eyelid. Alun had done this once to her years ago; a sign of trust maybe? Talim let out a quiet "Ah!" as the raven reached up and plucked a strand of her hair. Wincing, she opened her eye and saw the raven gesturing to it's right leg, where a strand of green hair was wrapped around it.

_What will this mean, I wonder_, Talim thought, reaching out and, with some difficulty, wrapping her stand of hair beneath the green one. The raven's eyes flashed clearest, crystal blue for the faintest of moments, before returning to bloody red. The bird let out another caw and the birds seemed to...relax?

_Are they her Familiars, as Alun is mine?_ Another thought ran through her mind. _Was this a ritual? Have they given me their protection?_

The demon let out a small moan, cracking at the edges, as a cold wind blew through the area. Talim blinked and shook her head, before standing up and slinging her charge halfway onto her shoulders. The wind blew again, cold and bleak. The girl frowned, yet began to trudge on, followed by a flock of black birds.

_This does not bode well..._

_--_

_To be continued_

_--_

Notes: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe _espíritu maligno _means demon in Spanish. Please, if this translation is wrong, correct me.


	3. Of Misguided Angels

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: All of your reviews have been great! As this -is- my first Soul Calibur, I'm glad I haven't butchered the characters -too-much!

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit (Thank you Major Mike, for the correct translation!): _espíritu maligno_

--

:Chapter Two: Of Misguided Angels:

--

_The air smells of something not quite sweet, and yet, not quite foul; it is a paradox, as she is, and it defines her life. She is face down in the grass, feeling the blades tickle her nose and the palms of her hands. She has never known a Mother, nor a Father; merely the elders of the Bird and the Blade that sits beside her, metal glinting in the sun. For a moment, she ponders; if she were to die, would she be reborn? If that is so, she wants to become something insignificant, something that didn't deserve nor desire the attention of the world of Man. Perhaps an ant, a small thing, ruled by instincts and a higher order; a worker ant, at least, because she is unfit to be a queen. A drone that collects dirt and crubs of food and has the occasional war with another colony, and working for a future that could be easily swept away by a heavy spring rain._

_And then the grass turns red with blood, then black, and she is in motion, saying nothing, merely killing, killing, killing. The Blade cuts into her palm, ripping flesh open and spilling ruby. Her muscles pump and the feeling as a woman's head is severed from her neck by the Blade is indescribable. _

_Does she like it? Not really. The blood makes it harder to see, and thus, harder to kill, and it's too messy for her liking._

_She ponders again, as she cuts open the throat and gut of an old, fat bastard that had run a brothel. She wonders if she has been slain and reborn, baptised in the blood of the innocent and the wicked and the saintly alike. If she has, what has she been born as; an assassin? A demon? An angel of death, perhaps? She does not know and, frankly, does not care._

_The paradox smell of sweet yet foul and foul yet not is gone, and only the metallic tang of copper and rotting flesh burns her nose, makes her eyes sting. Evil begins to rain from Heaven, destroying the Birds and ripping inside of her mind. Her psyche is torn apart, and in a moment of terror, she knows she will go mad. And then she begins to rebuild herself, taking each piece of the puzzle of her mind and forcing it too crash and meld with another, pieces not quite matching but being forced into place anyway; the picture is jumbled and doesn't make much sense, but it is her. Or perhaps she isn't herself. It is hard to tell. She falls, again, to the blood soaked grass, but face up this time. Her head is cushioned, oddly enough, and the ghostlike touches of fingertips, roughed with years of battle, run over her jawline. She purrs in response. _

_A voice, or perhaps lips, brushes against the shell of her ear, and the husky, breathy tone of it wrings forth images of candles and romance and sins and silk sheets, making her heart flutter. The Voice says to her, "I will fix you,_ _espíritu maligno, and nothing will stop me."_

_And she suddenly wants to open her eyes..._

_--_

Talim watched as the demon on the floor in front of her writhed, lost in a nightmare. Her eyes moved erratically beneath her lids, and her lips parted every now and then to give a wordless croak; agony, pleasure, Talim wasn't sure. Her captive's sadistic nature made everything harder to read, and the evil swirls that masked the white wisps of purity pulsated in time with the demon's erratic heartbeat. Talim frowned as the girl's movements became more violent, the body twisting on the make-shift cot of forest leaves. Talim sighed a bit, then looked around their temporary lodging. It was a cave, more of a den, really. A small fire blazed in the corner, making the small area warmth with its merry light. The smoke drifted on the ceiling, the slipped through mouth of the cave, making it safe to breathe.

The ravens gathered around and began a series of clacks and flutters of the wing, each communicating their worry over their fallen mistress. The leader of the flock settled on Talim's shoulder, feathers puffed up, and the young girl reached up to stroke the midnight black body tenderly, sighing. It snapped out a loud caw, nipped at her fingers in retribution, and went off. Talim ignored the sting in her fingers, and looked over her charge with worry.

"What torments you so," Talim murmured, "that you cannot escape it, even as you sleep?"

Then the demon let out a mournful, pitiful wail, back arching as she cried out, and Talim had seen enough. She crawled toward the fitful girl, and did as her mother had done to her many times; she pulled the head of paint coated hair into her lap, muttering nonsense and the like, trailing her fingers up and down the girl's jawline. And the effect was immediate. The demon stopped thrashing, and her face that had been twisted melted away, replaced by a serene look that seemed uncommon. Talim shivered as the girl's vile aura tried to slip into her being, but she rose against it and forced it back, white clashing with blacks and purples. The feeling was foreign and disgusting, as if Evil itself was trying to slip inside and take control of Talim as it had done to the girl in her lap.

"I will fix you, _espíritu maligno,_" the wind priestess vowed. "And nothing will stop me."

The girl's eyes snapped open, and Talim jumped slightly at the intensity and ferocity in the magenta orbs. And then the girl's fist slammed up into her face, forcing her away as pain exploded in her mouth.

--

_That felt nice_, Tira thought darkly, watching as the wretched thing who had captured her flung herself back, a hand over her mouth. Tira sat up, and crouched, already feeling the urge to lash out and hurt, even kill, the creature that sat a few feet away, shoulders hunched as she cupped her mouth, eyes scrunched in pain.

"Hurts doesn't it?" Tira cackled, fingers twitching as she searched for her weapon and preparing to rip the stupid twit apart--

And then she remembered. Her ring blade was lost in the river, perhaps rusting away at the very moment. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and for moment, her eyes stung with the unfamiliar burn of tears. Then rage flodded her body, and she let out a feral shriek as she gazed at the filth across from her, the girl's chocolate brown eyes widening.

"_How dare you!?"_ Tira screeched. "_How dare you do this to me!? I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands! I'll wring your scrawny throat_!!" And then she lunged, intending to make good on her promise, teeth bared and fingers curled like a demon straight from the depths of Hell. To Tira's ire, the girl was far more experienced with hand to hand combat, and even as the green haired girl forced the smaller girl to the floor of the cave, the girl had managed to grab both of Tira's hands and hold them in her remarkably strong grip.

"Forgive me," she said dryly, then Tira felt two fingers pressed against a certain spot on her wrists, and she lost the feeling in her hands. Tira's eyes widened, a ragged gasp escaping her lips as the girl pushed her hips from the ground, wrapping her thighs around Tira's waist, and expertly flipped them over. Tira bucked, trying to throw the girl off, unnerved at the way her heart began to race and heat flushed on her cheeks.

**Get her off**, said the violence in her mind. **Get her off now, we must not be distracted, get her off GET HER OFF!!**

_But she feels so nice..._

**We cannot have nice things, we must kill, we must destroy, we cannot feel!!**

Her head throbbed at the argument, and Tira let out a stream of curses, flailing her legs and trying to hit the wench on top of her. The younger girl then released her wrists and touched two fingers to a particular spot that was dangerously close to the curve of her thighs; the numbness in her hands from the wrist down spread to her legs, and the useless things flopped to the ground. Her heart beat faster, and panic began to mix with the rage as she realized she was at the mercy of the pathetic little slip of a child.

_But if I'm at her mercy, what does that make me?_

**FIGHT! Fight, you damned fool, fight! This is not right, we must not give in, she is not--**

One of the girl's hands came up to rest on her cheek. For a moment, the thoughts in Tira's head screeched to a halt; she gasped in air in gulp after ragged gulp, fear and adrenaline making it difficult to breathe, while the younger girl looked hardly phased from the scuffle. In fact, the younger girl looked as unnerved as Tira felt, her fingers trembling as they slipped down Tira's cheek and onto the curve of her neck. Tira shuddered, and the touch made her want to both run away and purr at once. The girl's lip was split from Tira's attack, and a tiny trickle of blood slipped from the full curve of her bottom lip. Tira licked her own lips nervously, and the fear of the moment happening between them made her heart thunder in her ears.

_What's happening...?_

**This is not right,** said the darker voice in her head. **We need to get out, we need to run, this is not--we cannot have this!! Kill her, rip her apart, but do not want her!!**

_We don't understand--_

_**I **don't understand._

"What torments you so, demon?" the girl husked, her free hand resting on Tira's stomach, thighs on either side of Tira's waist. The assassin felt her muscles spasm and she started to tremble. "Is it the Evil that you wear, that you breathe? If so," the girl's eyes darkened, and she flattened her lips, the fire and sunlight dancing across her skin. "I will rid you of it." And then the girl's fingers pressed on a spot on Tira's neck, and the world faded to black.

--

Talim breathed out a curse as the demon slipped unconscious, her lower lip smarting. She slipped off the older girl's body, tucked her hands beneath the girl's arms, and began to drag her back toward the bed of leaves. After arranging the demon back onto the makeshift cot, Talim rolled her shoulders, sighed again. She had used specific pressure points on the girl's body to render her limbs useless, for the time being. The wind priestess wiped away the bit of blood that colored her lip. Her heart raced, and her body felt warm in the most unusual of places.

"Oh damn," she cursed weakly, shuddering. The physical closness with her charge, and thus the girl's evil wind, had rocked her to the core of her soul. She felt weak, her stomach rolled. She held out her right arm, and the leader of the ravens settled on it.

"Keep her in," she told it softly, the order feeling wrong and disgusting on her lips. She was a servant of the wind and thus the freedom of every creature. The raven nodded, nonetheless, accepting that for the time being, the second mistress was the one to obey. Its eyes flashed crystal blue again, remained longer than the first, and seemed to mix with the red in its iris, becoming a gentle violet color, more red than purple in some lights. It fluttered off her arm to settle near the demon, and Talim slipped out of the cave and darted up the rocky surface, her fingers shaking. As Talim sat on top of the small, rocky structure, she let the cool breeze of the wind calm her down and settle her nerves. She had no clue what to do with the feelings that had seemed to sprout against her will in the bottom of her stomach. Her charge both intrigued and frightened and repulsed her in ways Talim had no understanding of.

"What am I to do?" she moaned to the wind, resting her face in her hands, tears beginning to pool in her eyes, slipping down her face. "_What am I to do_?"

The wind held no answer.

--

To be continued

--

Notes: Sorry if this disappoints, dear readers. I had no idea what to do, and am trying to build it as much as I can without making it feel too forced or fast. Please, tell me what you thought about it! I thrive on constructive criticism, and will enjoy hearing what I can do to make this story better.

Next time; -The Purification begins. Or, at least gets a rocky start.

--


	4. Long Overdue Rent

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

--

:Chapter Three: Long Overdue Rent :

--

When her mind was clear, and the odd emotions under control, Talim padded back into the cave. Her demon as still unconscious, and completely still; the rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she was still alive. The wind priestess looked at the gentle, even innocent look to the slumbering girl, face slack and free of malicious snarls and sneers. The younger girl knelt by the unconscious demon, eyes scanning the surface of the slithering, purple-black aura for the traces of pure white. She pursed her lips, furrowed her brows.

_There!_

Her hand shot out, grabbed the white strand between her fingers and held on, regardless of the sudden, burning pain that lapped at her hand as the dark aura revolted against her touch. Talim ground her teeth, reached out with her other hand, grasped a handful of purple-black energy and yanked it from the rest. Fire raced along her palm, the energy writhing in her hand, before she summoned her own aura and crushed it, returning it to the wind. Keeping her hold on the strand of white, she repeated the process several times, and each moment she spent removing chunks of aura, the pain multiplied a thosand fold. Burns had even began to appear on the skin of her hands, each a mark of the evil energy living within her demon.

"To have lived with this evil for so long," Talim muttered, sweat sliding down her neck and forehead, her senses and mind scattered by the pain. "Your soul must be stronger than I thought..."

Her arms began to quake as the minutes ticked by; the wind priestess could feel her strength slipping away.

_No, no, no,_ she thought wildly. _A little more, just a little longer... I can do this._

The lie served as a self-encouragement of sorts, for there was only small pieces of the purple-black evil missing; chunks large enough to see the undercurrent of white that was oh so warm, but still small enough to taunt her with how little she had done.

"I will fix you," Talim heard herself say, "I promised you. I promised, and I will keep that promise." She watched as the skin on her hands blackened, watched as flesh melted from bone, and then watched as bone dissolved--no, just a trick of the mind. Her hands were still hands, though it looked as if they had been dragged across stone, the skin red and raw. Her head began to throb, and it became harder to breathe. The injured fingers of her left hand, the one she was using to pull away layers and chunks of evil energy, twitched spastically; there were moments where her entire body convulsed. The wind priestess had never before purified something like this... Talim swallowed thickly, aware of something trickling from her nose; she lifted the injured hand and touched the wetness, pulling away and seeing blood.

_Pushing too far_, came the dull thought. _Push more and you'll break_.

She let out a mournful noise, released her grip on the white wind; she saw it throb, then wrap around the fingers again.

_Don't let go_, it seemed to beg.

Talim shot to her feet, stumbled out of the cave and tore through the bushes and foliage, falling to her feet and retching up what little she had eaten. The fire in her hands traveled up her arm and through the rest of her body, and Talim let out a hoarse scream as fire lapped at her skin, at her insides. She raked the skin of her arms and belly with her short nails, hysterical; rats ate away at the backs of her eyes, ants crawled beneath her skin, tacks were shoved beneath her nails. And still the fire, that damned fire, consumed her, body and soul and mind. She flung herself onto the grass, crying, blood bursting in front of her eyes. Beasts shrieked and tore into her flesh, ripping her apart; dimly, she heard the cries of the ravens and tried to say something, anything, but her tongue felt swollen in her mouth. Finally, Talim curled up in a ball and sobbed into her knees, wondering, _Is this what she had to deal with all her life? Is this what my demon had to go through, night after night?_

And still, the look in the demon's eyes haunted her; the demon whose nightmare she had calmed, the demon who had sought to kill her.

Talim found that thinking of the purple eyes of her captive, while stoking the fire inside of her skin, helped to treat the burns left in its wake.

--

The fire was out; Tira let out a small groan as she opened her eyes and felt the chilled air on her skin. She took a moment and waited for the annoying prescense of her captor, waited for the violence, the hatred, the anger--

She felt none.

Her eyes widened slightly. She shot up from the leaves, shaking her head and took a breath; the air seemed cleaner, the world seemed a bit brighter. It was easier to breathe, easier to think. For the first time in years, Tira recognized her very own voice; for the first time, she was able to think.

_I feel so different...Me. Me, not them, not we, but me. I'm alone._

It felt...good, actually. Tira took a breath again, then shuddered at the chill of the night. She scanned the cave and saw only the flickering embers of the dying fire. And yet, the younger girl was nowhere to be seen.

"...Girl?" she croaked out, surprised at the feminine quality to her own voice. She licked her lips, cleared her throat. "Hello? Girl?" she said a bit louder. A loud, sharp caw made her jump, and she turned to see a raven, perched near the entrance of the cave. Tira clambered to her feet, unnerved at the weakness in her knees.

_Her fault. The girl who took away my blade._

Anger sprouted quickly, but she could think through it; she wasn't a slave to the violence and bloodshed she had done, she was overcoming it. It felt glorious. She padded over to the raven, which seemed quite agitated at something or other. Perhaps it had been worried over her?

"I'm fine now," she said, reached out a hand. The raven cawed again, fluffed up its feathers. Tira frowned. "What?" It motioned its head towards the sky, where several of its bretheren flew. They circled a partcular spot in the sky, cawing. "There? Do I have to go there?" The raven took off towards the others, giving her its answer. Tira paused, then began to follow her Familiar, wincing at the slapping branches of the tres and the scratching of the thorny bushes on her legs. Every now and then she would see the moonlight shining on glossy black feathers, her only indication that she was headed the right way. She entered a small clearing, near a small rushing stream, and let out a small breath at the beauty of the forest; the years lost in her madness had robbed her of the gift of life, and now that it seemed to be over with--

Her breath caught in her throat.

There, collapsed in the middle of the leaf littered ground, her body splayed like an offering to a pagan god, was her captor. The girl. The shallow rise and fall of her slender chest was the only indication that she lived at all. Her hands were curled on either side of her head, her dark skin luminous in the moonlight. Dried blood wove a path from her nostrils, and it was then Tira noticed her captor's body was twisted in a way that was both uncomfortable and, oddly alluring. Tira swallowed thickly, rubbed her eyes. The ravens had gathered around them, settling in the branches of the trees to regard them with their new, purple-red eyes. Tira padded over to the girl and knelt; the girl's fingers were swollen, red, and raw. Tira wondered what had cause dsuch injuries; and then, in a darker corner of her mind, wondered why she cared.

Yes...Why should she care for this creature at all?

This thing had taken away her identity, the Blade, stripped her of her dignity.

A strangled gasp; the feel of smooth skin beneath her hands, of a throat.

Tira's eyes widened when she realized she had wrapped her hands around the girl's neck. The girl's eyes were open, and Tira was captured by the pools of rich soil. She gurgled weakly, lifting her mangled hands to touch the pads of her fingertips gently to Tira's wrist. The fingers encircled it gently, smoothed over the thundering pulse

_It's not me!_ she wanted to wail. _I'm not doing this! It's not me, it's not me!_

**It never is, is it?** cackled the violence; dim, but still there. **Don't you know by now that we cannot live a day without blood beneath our nails, our skin? That is what we live for, we live for the next kill.**

"No," Tira moaned aloud, her voice breaking at the end. "No, no, no, no!"

The girl beneath her began to jerk, trying to struggle for air. Whatever had happened to her captor before had wiped out her strength, it seemed.

_"I'll wring your scrawny neck!"_

The words she, or rather, the Madness, had screamed came back to her in a flash. She willed her hands to loosen, to give the girl air, to release; they would not listen. Something hot and wet pooled at the corner of her eyes, dribbled down her cheeks.

"No!"

The scream ripped through the air.

"No, no, no!"

The light in the girl's eyes was starting to fade.

"Don't die! No, not here, not now, don't die! I can't--I'll--I'll fade! I'll go back, and I don't want to go back, I want to go forward!" Tira dived down, beginning to bite at her hands. She bit down hard enough to taste blood in her mouth, felt the small huffs of air on her forhead from the girl's mouth. It was shallow, it was slowing.

"Demon," the girl finally managed to whisper softly. "It is your body; if you share it with your darkness, does it pay you?"

_What? What are you talking about?_

"Your body," the girl murmured, eyelids fluttering. "Get your pay, get your due, you've earned it, haven't you?"

**Almost there, just a little more--**

_Pay up._ It took every ounce of her will to summon the words, the force against the violence. _Pay up, give me my due, give me my **body**._

Her hands loosened, fingers twitched.

**You can't escape this; we can't leave you.**

They slid from the girl's neck, leaving her to gasp for air and cough hoarsely.

**No escape.**

The girl sat up, with some difficulty, rubbing at the bruises forming on her slender neck. Tira noticed how close they had become, and the physical nearness of her captor made her heart do the weird flip flopping moves again. The girl opened her eyes, met Tira's...and smiled, possibley delirious from lack of oxygen.

"Strong," she muttered, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she slumped forward, landing in Tira's arms. The green haired girl stiffened, then looked up at her Familiars, the ravens, who reagrded her with their purple eyes; now, more purple than red but not quite blue tinted.

_Take her back_, they seemed to say.

Tira stood, scooping up the small girl with her, the limpness of the younger girl slightly frightening. Then, she turned on her heel and began to trek back to the cave, the ravens swooping around behind her.

--

To be continued

--

Notes: Again, feedback would be appreciated.


	5. From Dusk 'Till Dawn

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: My inspiration for this little story comes in short bursts. I apologise deeply for that.

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

--

:Chapter Four:_ From Dusk 'Till Dawn_ :

--

--

The wind slinked inside of her mind and whispered of things to come; after all, the wind was all knowing, all powerful. It juggled the past, present, and future with ease, and held all the secrets of the soul and world. A whisper lost in the wind was forever stained upon it, like ink on a pages from a book that had an eternity of chapters.

Only a select few could sift through the pages of the book.

Even fewer were allowed to read its contents.

She could thank the wind when she awoke; for now, she merely opened her mind to read the page the wind so generously opened for her.

--

_"What is this?"_

_You look back and see a girl; she's at least six inches taller than you, perhaps two years older than you. Her hair, black as the midnight sky, drifts cutely into her eyes, tickles the nape of her neck. Her eyes are swirling, shifting from a pretty ruby red to a striking purple. A cute little birthmark sits on the apple of her right cheek, just beneath her eye. She's wearing a simple crimson (the color suits her, you think) tunic, far too big for her frame. It billows in the wind and acts as a dress, of sorts; a leather belt fastens half the tunic around her waist, letting the rest of it flow to her knees. Her legs are sheathed in white stockings, and she wears a pair of bulky boots. She's looking at you with such trusting eyes, her hand so innocently entwined with your own; you adore the way your palms fit together. _

_"It is hard to explain," you answer her question, unable to tear your eyes away from her lips. You will reprimand yourself for staring later._

_"Where are we, then?" she asks, flushing at your gaze. She raises her free hand to her face and touches her left cheek gently. "Um...is there something on my face?"_

_"Nothing is on your face, _paloma_," you whisper, feeling your lips curve into a smile. She flushes even more, and looks away. _

_"Don't call me that," she mumbles; she is unused to such affection, and yet she tightens the grip on your hand._

_"I have wanted to show you this for some time." You sit down, tugging her with you. She joins you in the grass. "I want you to hear it."_

_"Hear what?"_

_"The wind," you say._

_"The wind?" She blinks, furrows her brows. "Why?"_

_"It is apart of me, _paloma_," you answer. You reach over and brush your lips along the shell of her ear. "I want to share it with you..."_

_"Oh," she whispers. She pulls back, looks in your eyes, and her smile is slow and steady, and, to your poor, teenage-hormone riddled mind, seductive (when you know it's not her intention to seduce). _

_"If you listen closely," you stutter, your heart beating frantically. "Y-you can hear those that have gone on. Those who were important to you."_

_Her face falls. "But I don't have anyone like that... At least no one I can remember." She holds your hand tighter again. "You're all I have."_

_Your heart swells, sings, and breaks all at once. "You do not have to remember," you murmur, "they will know."_

_The wind suddenly howls, moans; it rips away the vision, the sunlight, and it rips away her. You don't have time to miss her warmth before the world is black._

_--_

The girl still hadn't moved. Tira shuddered, wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled her knees closer to her chest. The girl-child was still unconscious, which unsettled the older girl. Surely she should have awoken by now? Then again, Tira knew very little of the art of medicine; what she thought and what was true were no doubt two totally different things.

_Story of my life, I suppose._

Still, the girl should at least be moving in her sleep. The blue clad female's body had a sickening similarity to a corpse. Bruises made an unnattractive collar around her slender throat, and there was still a trail of dried blood caked around her nostrils. Her bottom lip was still swollen from Tira's attack earlier that day. Tira sighed looked down into the depths of the long dead fire. She had no idea what to do to rebuild it; hell, she didn't even know how to start a fire in the first place. She should have at least remembered something from her days within the _Bird of Passage_, some sort of survival lessons that accompanied her weapons training.

No such luck. Whatever darkness that had wrenched her mind apart and created that...that thing that lived inside, that other not-quite-Tira, had managed to wipe away most of her life. She supposed that was supposed to make her sad, and perhaps she was, deep down. But, really, who could cry over something they didn't have?

--

It was the pain that first clicked into her brain. Talim let out a tiny whimper as she awoke, her head pounding agianst her skull. The acrid odor of dried blood filled her nose, left her nearly choking at the horrid smell. She breathed through her mouth in an attempt to keep the smell from knocking her out again, shivering as the cold joined the pain, raising goosebumps all along her skin. Desperately, she opened her eyes and saw darkness; for a moment, she believed that the rats from earlier had managed to eat her eyes--then her eyes adjusted to the dark and she relaxed. Her fingers were clumisly wrapped in strips of red; one of the ribbons that had been attached to her arms had been ripped apart and around the abused digits of her hand.

"Oh," a voice croaked, hoarse. "You're awake?"

Talim's eyes trailed from the ceiling to the other side of the cave; the demon sat there, huddled in a corner, arms desperatly clasped around her body to preserve heat. Talim could see the girl's shoulders trembling from the cold.

"That's...good?" the green-haired girl said weakly, unsure.

Talim couldn't manage a response. The purification had sapped away her energy; energy that was slow to return. Talim thought it odd that her powers weren't returning as fast as they should have been; it disturbed her. Was is the exposure to the evil wind...?

Perhaps. It was hard to think when her body was racked with pain, when the chill seeped into her bones and then to her soul. She noticed a bleeding bite on the demon's hand. She managed to raise a bandaged finger to point vaugely at the demon's hands.

"Hurt," she managed to say.

The demon's lips pressed together tightly. "You're worse."

"Hurt," Talim insisted, pointing again at the girl's hands.

"It's nothing."

Talim closed her eyes briefly; it actualy took a while to peel them back open. Goddess, she was exhausted. She pointed at the girl again.

"Hurt," she croaked. The let her hand flop to the stone beside her, and bit back a cry of pain. "Come here," she groaned.

The demon said nothing; only looked at her with those intense, violet eyes and shrunk firther against the wall. A cornered animal.

"Come," Talim said around her clenched teeth. "Here." And when the green-haired demon still refused, Talim began to sit up.

"Lay back down, idiot!" snapped the other girl. "You'll make it worse."

--

What did the little idiot think she was doing? Tira watching, half in horror and half in something that could be called awe as the girl tried, and failed, to sit up. Her lips were pulled into a thin line, sweat beading on her brow, and her normally dark skin was pale.

"Stop it," Tira rasped, watching the way the girl's face scrunched up in agony. The expression tugged at her heartstrings and stirred something dark inside of her as well. The Other liked to see the slip of a girl in pain, delighted in it, even. It made bile rise in her throat.

"Come here," the girl wheezed, looking at Tira between the stands of her silky hair. Blackmail? Oh, how clever of the witch.

"Fine," Tira hissed. She had been manipulated for as long as she could remember, yet the way the child had just used her own pain and Tira's sudden dislike of seeing the child in it irked her. And that made the situation all the more complicated. She stood to her feet and cautiously made her way to the girl's side, and saw a relieved smile making its way across her face.

Not as tough as she thinks herself to be! cackled the Other.

Oh shut up.

"Your hand," whispered the girl. "It's injured."

"It's fine."

"It's still bleeding." Her head tilted to the side, and Tira could see the pulse at her neck thunder away. Then she wondered why she was looking at the girl's neck at all. The girl tossed her hair aside, and leaned over to work at the ribbon tied to her left arm with her teeth like a puppy working on a peice of jerky. She managed to tug the ribbon free. She wiggled her bandaged fingers at Tira. "Please, will you make some more of these bandages? Two strips."

Tira frowned and held the soft fabric in her hands, then tore two strips, each about as wide as her palm. "Now what?"

The girl reached out and took Tira's left hand in her own. The contrasting feel of a callused palm and silk ribbon made her breath catch.

"What are you doing?" Tira whispered, her voice cracking at the end of her sentence, to her disgust.

"Helping you," the girl replied, lifting Tira's hand to her lips. She gently kissed the bite marks, each feather light brush of her lips sending a jolt of...of something down Tira's spine. She didn't even dare to think of what that certain something was. The girl pulled away, licked her full lips flushed bright red. She gingerly took a piece of torn ribbon between her bandaged fingers, draped it over the wound, tied it with her teeth.

She took the other hand, and as she raised it to her mouth, she said in that odd, throaty whisper of hers, "My name is Talim."

Oh, cooed a voice (another one, different from Tira and the Other) what a pretty name...

When Talim began kissing the wound, her eyes never strayed away from Tira's, which caused the green-haired girl's heart to drop from her chest to her stomach. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, she noticed. The innocent pastels of light creeped across the cave floor, settled in Talim's hair and eyes, practically glittering across her skin. Tira felt her jaw slacken a bit when Talim pulled back and swept her tongue across her lips, her bangs alight with dawn's fire framing her bright eyes.

Something inside of Tira's belly unfurled, bloomed, and took notice of the sight.

"Does it feel better, _espíritu maligno_," Talim murmured softly.

"It's Tira. My name is Tira."

--

To be continued

--

Notes: Nnngh, not much was really accomplished this chapter. I'm ashamed.

Oh, but Tira is just _oodles_ of fun to write! XD And Talim, the big dork. I'm not sure if I can ever get a handle on writing her dialouge.

Correct me if I'm wrong, _paloma_ means "dove" in Spanish. Remember, correct me if I'm wrong!

Next Time (whenever that may be): It's take two of Purification; this time, Tira's _awake._ Oooh, the subtext possibilities.


	6. Warm Connection

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: Eeks, I guess I haven't been really clear here; this takes place in SCIII. (Although I thought that would be pretty obvious...)

Introducing another character here. Say hello to--!

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

Dove: _paloma_ (Sorry Major, I looked it up this time. XDD;;)

--

:Chapter Five: _Warm Connection_:

--

Sparrows trilled the song of morning; robins answered with their own melody. Grass glistened with morning dew, flowers spread their petals to the sky in offering. The world began to awaken, inch by lovely, rose colored inch as the sun creeped over the horizon. Her sword felt far too heavy in her palm; the leather straps of her shield dug into her arm and dragged it down. Her feet ached, she couldn't remeber the last time she had eaten something substantial, and her old wounds began to throb.

But these were merely trivial things; she would face the fires of Hades, plunge herself into Tartarus, if it meant her children would be free from Soul Edge's horrible curse. The demon who had corrupted them, the devil who had plunged the Alexandra house into chaos...merely a child. A child's blood upon her blade forged by the Gods...a blashphemy, if there ever was one.

Sophitia Alexandra took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. Her hair drifted into her eyes, tossed by a chilly morning wind.

_**"Hee hee, you're such a horrible mother!"**_

Her grip around the sword tightened. If it was the last thing she did on this earth, she would rid the world of Nightmare and his girl-child servant. As a parent, as an agent of the Gods, she could do no less.

_She was right_, whispered Sophitia's heart, _you are a horrible mother._

_It's to protect my children_, argued her mind.

_She had a mother, once; a father too. Maybe even a sister or a brother. _

_But no longer; she gave herself to evil!_

_And that's an excuse to kill a child?_ Sophitia's heart ached, suddenly; sharp and bitter.

"No," Sophitia whispered hoarsely, her voice captured and words stolen by the cold wind. "But it must be done; for my children. For their future."

A single tear slipped from the corner of her right eye, burned its way down her cheek and plopped uselessly onto the leather of her breastplate.

It was the only sign of regret she would show the child.

--

_Tira._ _**Tira**_. The name was exotic. It was a nice name, Talim thought, gazing at the girl in front of her with something close to wonder. Tira was certainly..unique. Her hair was cropped short, painted green; she could see streaks of raven black hair in the green. Her tunic, if it could even be called that, was ripped and torn beyond repair, rags held together by thick purple threads. Her eyes were a curious mixture of purple and red; it was nearly impossible to tell what was the true color, and what was the Evil's influence. Still, they were pretty, Talim mused.

Then she realized she had been staring; Talim let out a quiet sound, and ducked her head. That only allowed her eyes to focus on their twined hands; her fingers weren't feeling as bad as they had been, she noticed, and on impulse she slid her fingers through Tira's and held them between her own. Tira's breath caught.

"What are you doing?" the older girl croaked.

Talim's hands sprung open, and she drew them to her chest. Her face felt like it was on fire, to her horror. "Um," was all she could manage.

"No, I meant...ah," Tira swallowed thickly. "Why did you..." She waved her banadaged hands. "You know," she finished in a harsh whisper. Talim let out a light breath, yet kept her hands to herself; her fingers were still tingling.

"My mother would soothe my wounds like that," Talim explained. "I thought... well, it feels better, does it not?"

"It wasn't even hurting," Tira mumbled.

"O-oh..."

They lapsed into an awkward silence, broken only by Tira's stomach rumbling loudly into the still, dawn air. Tira flushed when Talim lifted her head, blinking.

"You are hungry," Talim said. Her stomach rumbled in answer. Talim flushed at the noise, laid her hands over her own stomach.

"So are you," Tira shot back.

Talim giggled, and Tira was suddenly blown away at the sheer innocence of the sound. Just how old was Talim anyway?

"My fifteenth summer passed, not too long ago," Talim replied.

"How did--"

"You asked it out loud."

**What? Did you think she could read our mind?** mocked the Other. **If she could, do you think she would still be near us? We've only been thinking of how lovely her death would look...**

Tira ignored it. "You're fifteen years old?"

"Yes." Talim stood to her feet, brushed off the stray leaves that still clung to her pants. "Is that a problem?"

"You're so young."

"You do not seem much older." Talim began to tug at the bandages over her fingers with her teeth, unfurling them and revealing slightly pink flesh. The swelling was gone, Talim noticed with a smile. It no longer hurt to move them, either. She padded over to a corner of the cave, reached behind the large rock that sat there, and pulled out her rucksack. She dug through it, letting out a small "Aha" as she found a small bag of dried nuts and berries. Tira eyed the bag with disdain, and almost curled her lip when Talim reached in, grabbed a few of the berries, and popped them in her mouth.

"We're not eating that, are we?" the assassin asked.

"_We_ are not," Talim answered, standing back up. "I will get you something else, if it does not suit you."

"You don't have to do that," Tira snapped. "It's fine, I'll get it myself--"

Talim was gone, quick as the wind she had preached about. Tira glared at the spot where she had stood, then to the bag she had left. She scooted away from it.

--

Talim scampered up the tree, glad to finally have use of her hands back at last. She spotted a good looking apple and grabbed it. She tucked it into the crook of her elbow, and climbed higher. It had been one of her hobbies, when she was younger; the intimidating height of a tree gave her a challange, and it all seemed like a small adventure. The tangled mass of leaves and twigs and branches would become a sort of hideaway, and when the wind blew just right, oh, the music it would make! Talim smiled at the memories, flexed her hands to feel the rough bark of the tree.

With the return of her hands, she would have to attempt purification again...

For the first time, the thought of the task made her shudder. Touching the vile wind was bad enough, but the aftershocks were horrific. Still, it needed to be done, she supposed. Tira deserved a chance. Smiling at the thought, Talim scaled higher. The wind blew through the branches, and Talim's smile spread.

_Go and help her_, it seemed to say in her ears. She turned on the branch she was perched on, back to the enormus trunk. The gentle pastels of dawn were gone, replaced by a harsh shade of red.

It looked similar to the eyes of the girl in her dream, she noticed. Flushing at her thoughts, she took a bite out of an apple and watched the rising sun.

--

"Here."

Tira looked at the apple that sat in Talim's palm.

"It's for you," Talim explained, holding the fruit closer. "You should eat something."

Tira took the offered fruit, brought it to her lips, and took a small bite. She let out a satisfied sound at the taste, and her stomach eagerly welcomed the food. She devoured the apple in record time, nibbling away at the core. She blinked when another apple was held up to her; Talim's smile was annoyingly bright.

Tira frowned. "I'm fine."

"Please?"

Tira's frown melted away. No one had ever asked her anything; it was always a strict command, a dark bite to the words. Talim's voice held none of that.

**Not yet.**

In defiance to the Other, Tira took the apple and whispered, "Thank you."

"You are very welcome," Talim whispered. "Tira."

Tira suddenly had trouble swallowing. Talim's voice was lovely, like silk, with a hint of an accent. Tira's name didn't seem so special...but, oh, it sounded so good when Talim said it so sweetly. She busied herself with devouring her apple, trying to sound out of her head. When the core was left, she let out a sigh, closing her eyes. Their breakfast wasn't what Tira would call filling, but she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten at all. From the way her stomach eagerly clenched around the food, it had been quite a while. Talim's hand was warm on her own; Tira jumped and tried to move away. When had she gotten so close?

Talim reached out her free hand, yet stopped about a foot away from Tira's body. The green haired girl held her breath. Talim's brows furrowed, her eyes narrowed.

"Aha," she muttered softly, and her index finger traced an invable path, starting at the air above Tira's stomach and tracing _up, up, up_ to her sternum. There was a curious, phantom touch that followed the path; Tira's breath caught at the feeling.

"What are you doing?" she rasped.

"Shh," Talim whispered, "purification requires silence and peace."

"Purification?" Tira tried to move away. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Shh," Talim ordered again, her eyes sparking. She cupped the air above Tira's forehead, and the green-haired girl felt an answering phantom ruffle her bangs. Her fingers curled, and lifted; Tira felt something stretch and pop, and it seemed a sudden, minor weight was lifted off her chest. She gasped, and the Other's prescence weakened. Talim's hand moved over her cheek, twisted the air, pulled and the feeling returned. Talim's hand drifted lower, to Tira's cheek; a twist, a pull, a relief.

Talim's young face suddenly darkened, her fingers curling into the air above her cheek. With pain, Tira realized with a start.

_We cause her pain_, said a voice inside of her brain in a whine_. We always cause pain. We always, always cause pain!_

"What's wrong?" Tira whispered.

"You..._hurt_," Talim managed to whimper; Tira could see her jaw woring as she ground her teeth. "You are..._always_ hurting...so much _pain_ inside of you!" She took a shuddering breath and reached up with her other hand, touching Tira's other cheek; the other girl jumped at the sudden warmth. "How can you _breathe?_"

Talim's eyes narrowed at something Tira couldn't see, then, with both hands, touched the air above Tira's heart. Panic began to bubble in her stomach, popping and boiling over until the acids burned the back of her throat.

"Stop it," Tira snapped, reaching up and grabbing Talim's hands.

A spark seemed to jolt between them; they shared a breath at the warmth between the connection. Tira's darted down to their hands, then up to Talim's eyes. The unguarded, raw, pure emotion held there made her heart skip a beat. Talim's fingers slipped between her own, again, and drew them to her chest. She held their joined hands over her heart, which was beating faster than normal, Tira noticed.

"I am afraid, Tira," Talim began in a low, husky whisper that sent shivers up the older girl's spine, "I cannot stop." Talim's heart was picking up speed, and a light flush was darkening the skin of her cheeks. "I am afraid I will not stop until the pain you hold inside of you is gone." A smile tugged at her lips. "I promised you this once before, did I not?"

"But," the word escaped Tira's throat in a harsh exhalation of breath, "why? Why are you doing this?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Talim countered.

And Tira had nothing to say.

..

Notes: Still lacking the pizzaz the previous chapters held.

I had a lot of problems writing Talim, for some reason. Breaking the mold of the "cute, shy, innocent uke" she's been forced into is a bit of a challange. And she's probably OOC. In fact, this whole damn thing is OOC, considering it's AU. Sorta.

And Semi-Sane!Tira is a bitch to write too. Trying to make her seem real is like ripping out my brain, tossing it in a blender with copious amounts of alcohol, making a smoothie out of it and drinking it. Then having a shot of No-Shame for shits and giggles. But don't worry; I plan to bring out the Psycho-Bitch!Tira we all know and love (?!) sooner or later.

The only lady I'm proud of at this moment is, of course, Sophitia. Simply because she (in the words of a good friend of mine) "RADIATES LOEV. NOT LOVE--LOEV."

Whew, okay, rant over.

Next Chapter!: It's BONDAGE TIEM! I mean bonding. Yeah. _Bonding_. Which kinda looks like bondage if you squint. (ahem) Talim and Tira take a moment to freshen up (which also pushes the T rating to the super limit for nudity and violence in the same chapter) when Momma Sophie shows up lookin for blood. D'uh-oh.


	7. Washing Away the Sin

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: Muaha. This is, by far, one of my favorite chapters. -insert evil cackle here-

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

BIGGER WARNING!: This chapter is now rated HIGH T; for nudity. No smut, I don't think I'm brave enough to try that yet, but THAR BE IMPLIED NAKEDNESS. Oh, and violence. Can't forget violence.

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

Dove: _paloma_ (Sorry Major, I looked it up this time. XDD;;)

--

:Chapter Six: _Washing Away the Sin:_

--

Talim let Tira's hand slip from her own, avoiding the older girl's gaze. She nervously brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"How do you feel, Tira?" she asked softly, "Were you uncomfortable during the purification process?"

"What?" Tira blinked and it seemed the spell they had woven together was broken, in that instant. The older girl turned her head, mumbled a quick, "No."

"You must have felt _something_," Talim insisted, "Is it easier for you to breathe, at least?"

"Yes." Tira still wouldn't look at her. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That...that purification thing. How did you do it?"

"I did not _complete_ the process," Talim sighed, flexing her sore fingers. "Your Evil is...a most challanging thing to overcome. It, your Evil I mean, is somewhat like a great tree. The roots are tangled deep into your being, and I can only remove parts of it at a time."

Tira was oddly silent after this, her pale face drawn into a dark frown.

"But you do not have to worry, Tira. I have vowed to help you overco--"

"Stop that," Tira snapped.

Talim drew back, blinking in surprise. "Pardon?"

"That stupid formality thing. The way you're always dragging things out like that. Stop it. It's annoying."

"It is the way I was taught to speak," Talim sputtered.

"Well, it's _annoying_," Tira said bluntly. "Don't waste your breath flowering up the words. Just say them."

Talim stood, drawing to her full, meager, four feet and nine inches of height. "My people have taught me_ manners_, thank you _very_ much, and they taught me to speak_ polietly _to those older and more experienced than I am. Which," here Talim's eyes hardened like stone, and she leaned over Tira with her hands on her hips. "_if_ I am not mistaken, _you_ are older and more experienced than I."

"There you _go again_," Tira sighed, the sound rattling in her throat like a growl, "_dragging_ out the damn thing."

"You, on the other hand, have not yet learned your manners," Talim huffed. "Shall I teach them to you, Tira?" she added, a teasing lilt to her voice. This was...what was it? It wasn't fighting, verbal or otherwise. Banter, perhaps? Well, Talim began to admit to herself, it was _fun_, whatever it was.

"Oh, yes, _teach me_," Tira sneered, rising to her feet as well. Talim found herself dwarfed by the taller girl, and she gulped at the menacing glint in Tira's ruby and amethyist eyes. "_Teach_ me how to talk like an _annoying old woman_." There! There was a small, quirk of the lips; not a smirk, but a smile.

"Oh! How rude." Talim giggled. "Do you know how my people would punish children who disrespected their mentors?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll waste about five minutes yammering about it."

"They would shove them outside, force them to balance on a pole, and make them hold weights on their arms for _hours_. We learned quickly not to antagonize the mentors."

Tira's sudden smile was dangerous and smug.

"There; was that so hard?"

Talim furrowed her brows. "I...beg your pardon?"

"You didn't start ranting about it; you just said it." Tira cocked her head to the side, still smiling. "And would you look at that? It was under five minutes."

"Oh." Talim flushed. "You tricked me."

"No, no I didn't." Tira shrugged, her smile falling. "It's just...well, when people get pissed off enough, they get a...different frame of mind. I...I know that from experience."

Talim didn't respond; the pained expression on Tira's pale face made something in her chest ache. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tira's shoulders in a gentle hug. Tira, on the other hand, became paralyzed in Talim's grip.

An awkward silence developed between them.

"...What are you doing?" Tira asked in a whisper.

"Embracing you," Talim answered, just as softly.

"Why?"

"Because--" Here, Talim thought to herself, was where things got dangerous. "...I wanted to give you one?"

"It's...weird," Tira muttered. "I've never done this before."

Talim's heart ached just a little more. Had Tira really gone this long without a simple hug? What about her parents? Had they even reached out to show her affection?

"Does this make you uncomfortable?" Talim asked.

"No," Tira lied; her tense muscles, unfortunately, said otherwise. "It's just...different."

--

Sophitia recognized the dark, looming spires of Orstriensburg. The last place the demon had been was here, Sophitia recalled. She took a breath, closed her eyes; she prayed for forgivness for the act she was about to commit. The act that would stain her hands with a child's blood. Would she ever be able to look at her children without seeing the creature's face, the swirling vortex of red and violet?

Probably not. But this was her battle, her duty as a mother, Sophitia reasoned. Her children came first.

She drew her sword and rolled her shoulders. She opened her eyes and steeled her resolve. One, quick slice to the throat, or even a sharp thrust to the heart. That's all it would take.

A glint of metal caught her eye. Sophitia turned to see the creatures weapon, the ring blade, washed up on the riverbank, buried deep into the muck and the mud. What did this signify? Had the creature already been dispatched earlier? Relief flooded Sophitia's heart, an ugly, selfish relief that she wasn't the one to kill the demon that endangered her children.

Then she noticed the footprints in the wet sand. They were a few feet away from the abandoned weapon, framed by black feathers from the demon's birds.

Sophitia looked down at the feathers, then followed them with her eyes; there was a trail of them. Wherever the girl went, the birds followed.

This trail would lead Sophitia right to the damned soul that threatened her children.

And, perhaps, the trail would lead to her own damnation as well.

Sophitia began to follow it.

--

"I believe we require a bath," Talim remarked softly as she picked the fourth leaf from her hair. She ran her fingers through her hair, seeking out anymore foliage; she wrinkled her nose at the greasy texture. "We...we make quite a sight.

"S'not that bad," Tira said, shrugging. She look down at the tattered excuse for clothing she wore, at the lines of paint that marked her body. She lifted her fingers and touched the dryed paint in her hair, chipping away a few, teal flakes of it.

"Perhaps," was the quiet response. Tira looked at her side to See Talim reaching up and undoing the braids that held her hair. Each small, metal clip was carefully placed on the ground beside her rucksack. After the four clips were removed and Talim's hair was free, the younger girl frantically shook her head, eyes shut tight and face scrunched into an adorable expression.

Talim's hair was quite longer that Tira had first thought, reaching down to the small of her back in a frightfuly tangled mess of aubrun waves. And one, stubborn leaf was still clinging to Talim's hair, right in between her shoulder blades, where the wind priestess couldn't reach. On impulse, Tira reached out and grabbed it; a jolt coursed through her again, something warm and soothing that traveled up her arm to pool low in her chest. Talim must have felt it too, because the small girl jumped, letting out a quiet gasp.

"You had a leaf in your hair," Tira explained. Then she looked to the cave floor when Talim turned to see her.

Then, seeing where Tira's gaze was, Talim flopped to the ground on her back to look up at the assassin, an almost pout to her lips.

"Why are you looking down, Tira?" Talim asked lightly. Tira flushed.

"I...I thought you would get mad."

"Why would I?"

"You might have personal space issues?"

"Hm," Talim hummed, "I do not."

"...Oh."

"You were helping out a friend, weren't you? There is no need to feel guilty or ashamed of this fact." Talim sat up, sweeping her hair behind her again, wincing as her fingers caught and pulled the knots and tangles hidden within.

Tira had quite lost her breath at Talim's words. "...Friends? We're friends?"

"Well, I should hope so. You should know that I consider you my friend, Tira." Talim teased gently. At Tira's silence, Talim turned and her face was warm and open and just so damned soft that Tira had to look away again.

"If _I_ am not _your_ friend," the younger girl said, "then I would very much like to be your friend, Tira. May I?"

**No**, shouted the Other, **No, you may not! We don't need her to help with our happiness! Our happiness is just too fragile to trust with this girl-child, say NO! All we need is each other!**

The word sprung to her lips, sat on her tongue and prepared to launch at the younger girl like a barbed, poisonous arrow. Tira opened her mouth.

"Yes," she whispered, forcing the word from the back of her throat. "I'd...I'd like that."

Talim smiled, and the innocence held in her lips made Tira flinch. "Then we are friends. Now, onto the matter of our bath," the girl said, standing to her feet in a graceful, fluid motion. "Do you have any other clothes, Tira?"

"What's wrong with what I have on now?"

"It will need to be washed," Talim explained as she stretched her arms to the roof of the cave, arching her back and sighing happily as a series of pops followed the delicate motion of her spine.

"Uh...I don't have anything else. Just...just this."

Talim hummed again, frowning. "This is a bit of a problem. I do not have anything for you to wear...perhaps we can make do." She bent to her rucksack and dug into it. She let out a small "aha" and pulled out a folded blanket, the dark red material thin and faded. Talim stood up, shook it out.

"Here," she said, handing the blanket to Tira, "wrap that around you; under your arms, if you would."

Tira arched a brow, but did as she was told. It was rather small on her taller frame, the ends of it stopping around mid thigh.

"That should work," Talim said. "Just until your clothes are washed and dried." She pulled out a leather pouch, about the size of her entire hand. It was filled nearly to the top with its contents.

"What's in there?" Tira asked, glaring at the pouch warily.

"A powder," Talim answered. "My people have used it to cleanse themselves for many, many years, and the recipe has been handed down. It is used as a soap."

"A powder?"

"Yes! It trns into a foam wwhen it's mixed with water and a little pressure." Talim frowned at Tira's disbelieving look. "Perhaps a demostration would prove that I am right."

--

Talim kneeled down next to the edge of the stream, humming a gentle "hello" when one of the ravens fluttered from the branches to perch on her shoulder. A soft caw was its response.

"How was your morning, little one?" she murmured to it softly, and raised her fingers to its right wing. She waited, and the wing extended, granting her permission to stroak its soft feathers. It cooed its appreciation. She leaned back from the stream and turned her head to Tira, who sat a good distance away from the water.

"You'll have to come closer, Tira," she said.

"I can see perfectly well from here," Tira replied bitterly, scowling. The raven perched on Talim's shoulder bristled, but Talim's fingers smoothed down the black feathers.

"Please?" Tira's scowl turned into a frown and Talim was a bit unnerved at the way the girl's distored wind pulsed, black and purple streams of air writhing more wildly.

"No."

"It's only a bit of water," Talm encouraged, dipping her hand into the stream, splashing it around a little. "It's not too cold."

Tira seemed to bristle. The ravens perched in the branches of the trees each began to react to the rising anger.

"I see," Talim sighed, nodding. "Very well. I will not ask you again."

Tira huffed, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, pressing her back tighter against the trunk of the tree she sat against. She closed her eyes tightly, her fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. The soft rustling of cloth met her ears, followed by an indignant caw and a whispered, "Sorry!". A raven, probably the one who had been with Talim, settled on her knee. More whispers of cloth against skin, then two thuds as shoes were tossed onto the grass.

What is she doing? Tira opened her eyes.

She promptly felt her heart drop into the soles of her feet as she saw Talim's slim, bare back. The girl's small, light blue jacket had been discarded and Tira noticed her hands working at a tie behind her neck. Talim let out a small noise and drew her hands away, and with that came the strip of farbic that covered her front.

"Wha--?" Tira sputtered aloud.

Talim turned around, her upper body completely bare, save for the odd choker that hugged around her neck. Tira clamped a hand over her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to swipe the image from her memory.

Instead, the image replayed behind her lids, over and over again.

"Tira? Is something wrong?" Talim's voice called out lightly.

"What are you doing?! Why are you taking your clothes off?!" Tira hissed between her clenched teeth and the spaces of her fingers.

"I'm going to take a bath," Talim answered. Tira cracked open one eye, then cursed heavily in her head as Talim's fingers went to the ties of her pants. The eye closed tight again. "One does not require clothes for such a thing." the younger girl continued.

"B-but--" Tira bit her tongue and swallowed. "What if someone sees you?"

"I doubt that," Talim's voice answered, and more heavy thuds followed; the younger girl's meager armor, no doubt. There was silence, broken only by the sound of Tira's heart was pounding in her ears; her face was unusually warm. Then, a small splash and Talim's delighted sigh.

Silence.

Deeming it safe, Tira opened her eyes. Talim's clothes were in a messy pile, while the girl was nowhere to be found. Tira's breath caught. Where was she? Hadn't the girl been in the water? Tira waited for the younger girl to surface. A minute passed...and still no Talim. Bile rose in the back of Tira's throat.

_Is she drowning? _

Talim surfaced a second later, blinking water out of her eyes. Her hair was plastered to her scalp ang the rest of her body in soggy ropes. Tira suddenly found it hard to swallow.

"The water's cold," Talim giggled, trembling. "But it feels quite good. You should come in."

"I'm fine," Tira croaked weakly. It was certainly_ not _the truth, and by the small quirk of Talim's lips, the other girl knew it.

"Fine then," Talim sighed. Then, in one, fluid motion, she stood from the stream. Tira stopped breathing. Talim tsked softly and grabbed the leather bag that contained the 'soap'. The lack of air to Tira's brain caused it to short circut terribly and the girl took in a wheezing breath.

_Oh...oh shit..._

The Other, the damned thing, had the gall to whistle. **Lovely little chit, isn't she?**

Tira bit down on the inside flesh of her cheek and tried to look away. She screamed for her eyeballs to move away from the sight of Talim, to give the younger girl some privacy. It wasn't happening.

_Nope_, said Tira's Eyeballs (or were they more voices? Tira didn't want to know) _We like what we see!_

"Put your clothes back on!" Tira finally snapped.

Talim looked back and blinked. "What? Why? I am taking my bath!"

"Just--just put on some clothes!"

"Tira," Talim finally said gently, "are you _bothered_ because I am naked?"

_Don't answer that_, warned Tira's common sense.

_Say yes!_ said Tira's sense of modesty.

_Say no and get naked too!_ cackled Tira's hormones (or perhaps another voice).

"It's just--ah-- you shouldn't be--you should be ashamed! Didn't your people teach you modesty when they taught you how to talk?!"

"We are both girls, you know," Talim chuckled. "I feel no shame. You shouldn't either. Sometimes, a nice bath can solve everything," she hinted. There was a smirk to her lips, if Tira chose to look at her lips and not her--

_Very nice_, crooned what Tira had deemed as her hormones.

**They're a little small**, the Other chimed in, **but nothing time won't cure.**

"J-just...Just...!" Tira bit her lips. "Don't look. Turn around. Get in the water and don't look!"

Talim hid a victorious grin as she turned around obediently and slid back into the water. Tira's muttered cursing drifted from behind her, and soon there was the whispers of cloth against skin. A very odd image floated into her mind and Talim gulped thickly, ashamed that she was thinking such things. She then gazed down at the pouch in her hand. She squeezed, softly, and felt the powder within. About a month's worth of soap, for herself, and maybe two weeks worth if she shared it with Tira.

"Close your eyes," Tira's voice ordered. "Keep them closed. Don't look!"

"I will not, Tira," Talim assured, and set aside the pouch to cover her eyes with her hands.

A splash followed, and the water lapped against her skin.

"May I open my eyes now?"

"Mmgf," came the muffled response.

Talim opened her eyes, and looked to her left. Tira sat as far away from her as possible, huddled in the stream as much as the shallow water would allow.

"That must be uncomfortable, yes?"

Tira's eyes narrowed darkly and a mumbled curse was the girl's reply. Talim giggled, and opened the pouch at her side, pouring a small bit of the lavender colored (and scented) powder into the palm of her hand. Setting aside the pouch, Talim dumped the powder onto the top of her soaked head and started to scrubbed hard. The foam built up in a few seconds, covering her head in a mass of white bubbles. It took a bit of work to make sure her hair was properly clean, but Talim managed it. Then, she used the left-over foam on her hands to wash her face. Once that was done, she took a deep breath through her nose and ducked beneath the water and washed out the foam. Surfacing, she felt around for the pouch and handed it to Tira.

"Try it," she encouraged. Tira just shrunk away. "Alright; turn around, please."

Tira swallowed thinkly, then turned around. The water rippled, and suddenly, Talims small hands were in her hair, fingers already working on her mop of short, paint coated hair. Tira froze, her limbs and muscles locking up when Talim pressed _fully_ against her back, gathering the locks on her forehead.

"Close your eyes, Tira," Talim whispered softly in the girl's ear. "You don't want to get this in your eyes; it will sting very much."

Tira was finding it hard to breathe around the lump in her throat. She tried to swallow it, and found she couldn't even do that. Still, she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of Talim's small fingers working magic on her scalp. The motions were slow, soothing circles; the faint smell of lavender tickled her nose, and Talim's soft voice was humming some sort of tune. Talim pulled away, and then Tira felt water pour over her head. Not too much, and the cold water sliding down her face and neck was amazing.

Talim had been right.

"Oh, Tira," Talim gasped, her finger back in her hair. "Oh, Tira, your hair..."

Tira flinched. "What about it?" she croaked.

"It's so pretty," Talim said in a giggle. "The actual color is amazing. It's black, but it looks red in the sunlight. I love it."

Tira opened her eyes, and saw tendrils of green paint running down her shoulders. Suddenly, Tira felt the impact of what this meant. The Tira that been submerged under the viel of murder and violence...the Other...was she being washed away as well? No. The Other was still there, deep in the back of her mind, laughing at the thought. But still, the influence was being washed away. The sin. The fear. Tira suddenly leaned back and Talim's warm body was there to support her. She tilted her head back to look at the sun, watching the way the trees and the ravens blotted it out.

"Tira?" Talim breathed quietly. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know what to feel about this," Tira answered. "About what you're doing for me."

"Do you want this?"

"...Some part of me does," Tira said. "A lot of me does. I think; I just...I don't know. I'm in pieces. I can't tell if the me that's here now is the real me. I don't remember things too much before the, um, the Evil took control. Is the way I'm acting now the way I acted then? Is the me sitting here now the me that I was then?"

Talim silence gave her courage.

"Am I real at all? Are you? Or is this some dream? This could be a false reality; an illusion that the Evil created for me. I don't know who I am. I never have," Tira said softly. Talim's arms slid around her shoulders and the younger girl pressed her face against the crook of Tira's neck.

"Whoever you are," the girl mumbled, "whoever you will become; I will be your friend. I will do everything in my power to help you find your identity. And no matter what happens, Tira, there is a part of you that will never fade away. This part of you, the one with me right now...it will _not_ fade. This part of you, the part between us; this is _real_."

Tira closed her eyes again soaking in the sensations; the warmth of the sun on her face, the sound of Talim's promise in her ears, the smell of lavender filling her nose. She reach up and touched her fingers to Talim's clapsed arms. The voices were quiet.

"...Thank you Talim. Thank you."

--

"I have to run an errand," Talim said as she fixed her shorts, arranging her damp hair dual braids that gave more innocence to her face. "After I finish, maybe I can grab us something to eat."

"Where are you going?" Tira asked. The leader of the raven flock settled on her shoulder. Her green outfit, along with Talim's blue outfit, were hanging on a few branches, drying in the breeze.

"I just have to pick up something I left where we met," Talim replied evenly, sliding her elbow blades into the harness around her waist. "I won't be too long, not if I run full speed."

"Then I'll go too."

"No, stay here Tira. That place is covered in a vile wind. You might get sucked right in again." Talim's eyes darkened. "I will not let allow that to happen. Ever."

Tira sighed. "Fine. But take some of the Watchers with you, they'll help you find whatever it is you're looking for."

Talim giggled. "Thank you, Tira, Come along little ones," she called out to the birds, already walking towards the edge of the forest. "I'll be back, Tira," she said, giving the older girl a little wave. Then she was off.

Tira sighed, and gave the leader a little pat. Was it just her, or did the bird's eyes seem a little more purple today?

The leader then reached up and plucked a strand of hair from her head. She flinched, but merely blinked at the creature. It motioned to its foot; the artificial hair she had wound around it before was gone. This "new" hair would replace it. Tira took the strand of hair and wound it, not noticing the way it twined with the chocolate brown strand below it.

--

There she was. Sophitia took a breath, held it; the girl was vastly different than before. She seemed calmer now, as if something heavy on her soul was being lifted away. The clothes were new as well; a simple, crimoson wrap around a thing body. Nape length, black hair blew in the wind but it shown red, like blood. For a moment, Sophitia thought she might have been wrong.

Then, a strike of green; her eyes darted to the side and saw the demon's old outift, drying out on a tree. An odd, blue outfit was next to it, although it was in much better condition and looked much smaller. Did the demon have a follower?

Then the girl turned up her face. Sophitia saw the eyes, the eyes of the demon-child that threatened her children.

They were the same. Damn the Fates, Sophitia thought, for giving the child her cursed destiny, and for condeming Sophitia to be her executioner.

"Demon," Sophitia called out, stepping into the light. "Prepare yourself; to save my children, I am forced to kill you."

The ravens cried out in terror as the girl's eyes widened. A dark wind blew through Sophitia's hhair and carried it to the direction she came from. Sophitia drew her sword, and with her face grim, she told the girl, "I'm sorry."

She charged.

--

To be continued

--

Notes: DAAAAAMN this is longer than ususal.

Ah well. It's late and I can't think of anything witty to say.

Next time!: Sophitia has found the weaponless, slightly emotional and halfnaked Tira! A fight ensues, one that could mean the death of said half naked, slightly emotional, weaponless lady. Can Talim make it back in time to save her friend? What IS this so called errand that Talim's running?!

WHY AM I ASKING THESE QUESTIONS?


	8. Don't Touch Her!

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: MY. GOD.

I never wanna crank out anoter chapter like last one for a WHILE! My fingers are stil hurting.

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

BIGGER WARNING!!: Again, rated HIGH-T; for graphic violence and imagery.

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

Dove: _paloma_ (Sorry Major, I looked it up this time. XDD;;)

--

:Chapter Seven: _"Don't Touch Her!"_

--

The castle as still coated in its own evil, a writing, twisting mass of darkness. Being near it made Talim's skin crawl. She let out a small sigh, and a chill ran down her spine as she saw the banks of the river.

Tira had nearly drowned in that river. Tira had nearly died because of that river, because of this whole damn castle!

Talim fisted her hands, then began to relax, trying to let her dark thoughts flow into the wind, for the breeze to carry it away; hopefully not to see the light of day again. Once her mind was clear, Talim let out the breath she had been holding.

"Tira called you Watchers, did she not?" she said to the ravens fluttering around her. An affirmative caw reached her ears. "Can you help me? I am looking for Tira's weapon; I don't want her to be so defensless all the time."

The ravens, the Watchers, took to the sky and began to circle the area. Talim hoped that the weapon had washed up somewhere close; she had no desire to get her second set of clothes wet and diving back into that filthy water after her nice bath was something Talim did not want to do. She took a breath and began to walk around the riverbank, scanning the thick mud for the ring blade.

A dull gleam caught her eye; there!

"There you are," Talim mumbled, walking towards the metal ring. The weapon was buried deep into the muck and the mud, as if the river itself had spat the evil object out and the land tried to absorb it. Talim wrapped her hands gently beneath it, making sure to touch onto the dull inner circle of the weapon. She spread her feet, braced herself, and tugged hard.

The weapon wouldn't budge.

She tried again...and then again. She pulled with all of her strength, digging her feet into the muck and heaving--and with a wet, slurpy sound, the metal weapon popped free, sending Talim falling. It was only quick reflexes that allowed the girl to twist her body around to prevent the sand from getting onto her clean clothes. Talim let out a sigh of relief, shuffling to her feet and shaking her hands to send clumps of sand flying into the air.

She turned to the weapon and grimaced at the malavolent wind surrounding it. It was identical to Tira's dark wind, the same hues of black and purple. Except...this was different. It was completely still; Tira's wind was constantly shifting around, warping and twisting until it became hard to grasp and pull away; long exposures to the dark wind caused physical harm, as Talim knew only too well. The weapon's aura held no inner light, no purity within; it was as if the weapon was a container for Tira's own darkness and, like a cup to water, it overflowed until Tira was steeped in the Evil wind.

But if the weapon's aura was cleansed, would that mean it could absorb some of the dark aura?

Talim thought it was worth a shot. She sucked in a breath, and rubbed her hands together. Her own wind swirled around the palm of her hands; Talim slapped them onto the surface of the weapon, and heard the distinct sound of shattering glass. When she pulled away, she smiled. The dark aura was gone--purified.

_A weapon made to contain such evil...how?_

Suddenly, the ravens began to screech. A black wind blew from the direction of the stream where their camp had been set, and with it, Talim could hear the words that chilled her to the bone.

_"...kill you..."_

She drew in a sharp breath. The words were spoken by a woman; the voice was unfamiliar. Then, Tira's voice...

_**"...try it...dare you..."**_

The sounds of metal upon stone; birds crying out as the metal cut into their flesh; Tira's voice screaming.

_"...stop!...don't hurt them!"_

_"...protect...my children!"_

And Tira whispering, _"...talim..."_

Talim swung the ring blade across her shoulders, suddenly filled with a dark and ugly emotion foreign. Something that burned inside of her chest and bubbled up until the acid burned at her throat.

It was fury; she was furious. Someone was trying to_ hurt Tira_. Someone was trying to kill her friend. That was something she could never allow; an attempt on Tira's life had suddenly become something she _could not forgive._

_Troubled soul_, the wind priestess thought darkly as a snarl twisted on her face._ I hope your gods will take pity on you; __**I will not**__._

Talim burst into a full sprint, the wind swirling and blowing at her back, propelling her forward to the forest. The ravens took off with her, riding the ferocious wind current in the direction of their mistress.

She prayed she wasn't too late.

--

To say that Tira was a confused would be a bit of an understatement. The blonde woman who had just stepped into the clearing was beautiful; stunning in a heartbreaking sort of way. There was a dark, looming horror that shone in the woman's teal eyes, and a determination that chilled Tira to the bone.

And then the woman's words; "I am forced to kill you."

Tira stood to her feet, awkwardly fixing the thin blanket around her frame. She stepped back, drawing in a quick breath when the blonde woman took a step forward, weapons drawn. It was a terribly sharp sword-- one that shown with a holy brilliance, the sunlight gleaming off it and onto the woman's hair, making the strands of gold appear white.

This woman was an angel; an angel that had been sent down to kill her.

Had Tira been in a better (or worse) frame of mind, she might have laughed at the irony.

"I'm sorry," the woman croaked, sincere regret thick in her voice. Then, the woman charged forward, toga-dress attire flowing like water around her. On pure adrenaline and instinct, Tira threw herself to the right, avoiding a fatal stab to the heart; a quick duck saved her throat from being split open like a pig's gut.

"Stand still, _please_," the woman begged. "It will be over and _done_ with! I am trying to cause you the least amount of pain!"

Tira didn't need the Other's mocking voice to know that was complete and utter _bullshit. _

**Let me out!** the Other roared.** Let me out! I can win this for us, easily! Who needs a weapon!? This woman is weak from hunger and fatigue, if you let me out we can win this fight and save our lives, just like old times!**

Too bad Tira didn't want to go back to old times. She ducked another horizontal swipe from the blonde woman's sword, glad that her body was flowing naturally into the dance of death. The woman was getting increasingly frustrating, and suddenly, that sheild attached to her arm became a weapon on its own. The shield smashed into the side of her face, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Dazed, the looked up to see the blonde woman standing above her, sword held high.

"Please, forgive me," she whispered, closing her eyes. As the sword swung down, time seemed to slow down...

**That's it**, the Other hissed. **I've had enough of this! I've let you out just because it's so fun to see you utterly**** fail ****at being useful! It's time to go back to sleep!**

The world was suddenly veiled in red; and Tira knew that she would never be able to escape the Other. Never.

--

Sophitia gasped as the demon caught her sword right before it plunged into her chest. The demon chuckled darkly, eyes an unnatural shade of bright violet. The blade slid and opened the demon's palm, blood spilling down the girl's arms.

She didn't even flinch.

"**Oh, what's wrong?" **The demon hissed wickedly, a grin spreading over her face. **"I thought you were going to kill me! Don't you want to save your precious babies?"**

Sophitia ground her teeth and glared. "Shut up..."

"**Do you know what Soul Edge is going to do to that little girl of yours?!"**

"I said shut up!"

**"First," **the demon cackled, shrieks ripping from her throat in a grating parody of a laugh. **"it's going to bind to her, corrupting her inside out, just like me! Then it's going to eat her soul and devour her flesh until there's nothing left but the perfect host for Soul Edge!"**

"Don't you speak another word!" Sophitia howled, jerking the sword and causing it to slide deeper into the girl's palms.

"**And then she's going to kill**** everyone you love****," **the girl said, "**your own daughter will cut your husband open like a hog, she's going to rip her brother limb from limb--she'll kill your sister too! Everyone you've ever cared about will die and it will be all your fault!"**

"Shut the_ fuck _up!"

**"Or what!? You'll kill me! Come on, do it! Try it! I dare you!"**

Sophitia wrenched the sword away from the demon's hands, and plunged it down. It hit...

The soil broke like flesh as the sword was shoved into the ground.

"I _can't_," Sophitia whispered. "_I _can't_ kill you! _I_ can't_, you're just--just a child..."

"**Well," **the demon said smugly. "**I can still kill you**." And then the ravens swarmed her, pecking at her face and hair. Sophitia yelped, retrieved her sword from the ground and swung blindly in the air. Birds shrieked as the blade hit them; black bodies fell to the grounds in a flurry of bloody feathers.

--

It was like an out of body experience. Tira could see the world around her through a film of red; she could hear what was being said, felt her lips and tongue forming words she had no control over. The woman was being hurt from the Other, Tira knew.

And then the ravens attacked.

The birds had been apart of her for so long; they were more than animals, more than pets or spies. They were family, brothers and sisters tainted by the Evil. They knew her more than she knew herself.

And now they were dying.

Because the Other wanted it to be so.

_No_. The red haze was leaving. _**No. No! No!! **__I am__** not **__your puppet!_

And then, she broke free. It was like surfacing from underwater; Tira sucked in mouthfulls of air as a cold sweat beaded on her body. Her limbs were shaking, and the palms of her hands were wet and sticky with blood.

**How!? **the Other bellowed, outraged. **How did you break free?!**

_Because this is __**my**__ body. And __**I'm**__ the one who makes the rules now_.

_Nice goin' 'hon! _the squeaky voice shrieked happily. _Woo! I've been rootin' for ya' the whoooole time!_

"Stop it!" Tira said desperately, just as the last raven fell to the grass, dead. "D...don't hurt them...please..."

The blonde woman snapped to look down at Tira's head, her beautiful face covered in scratches.

"Just..just do it," Tira mumbled. "If you're gonna do it, do it."

The woman was silent.

**What are you doing, idiot!? What about our happiness!?**

_Stop being so fucking selfish, for once._

_Aww, shucks,_ the squeaky voice sighed. _Well it was a nice run while it lasted! So long and goodnight, you've been a wonderful audience_!

Sandal clad feet met her vision. Without looking, she knew the woman was readying her sword.

"I''m so sorry," the mother said again. "I must do this! I have to protect my children!"

"...Sorry for giving up," Tira whispered into the wind. "...Talim..."

_**"Don't you touch her!"**_

Tira and the woman looked up, just as Talim burst through the forest line, fury lining her young face. Going full speed, the young girl took two strides before leaping the rest of the way and slamming one dainty fist smack into the blonde woman's face. The woman was sent sprawling, tumbling head over heels and clutching at her nose, muffled cries of pain spewing from her mouth.

--

The feeling of that damn woman's nose breaking beneath her knuckles felt amazingly good. Talim was practically growlng with each breath she took; anger was pouring into every one of her cells as she saw the fallen ravens on the forest floor and the blood staining the woman's blade. And when she saw Tira's bleeding hands--the dark fire in her chest exploded into an inferno of rage.

A loud crunch, and the blonde woman stumbled to her feet. Her nose was corrected, blood pouring down the fron of her face and mouth.

"So you're her follower!?" the woman demanded. "Are you another one of Soul Edge's little pets?!"

Soul Edge? Was it the reason for Tira's pain, for the Evil tainting her soul? The questions sat on Talim tongue only to be swallowed down and pushed aside, replaced by the desire to tackle this woman to the ground and beat her senseless.

Silent, Talim tossed the purified ring blade to Tira, hearing a short gasp as the raven haired girl took it in her hands.

"If you_ ever _try to hurt Tira again," Talim said in an even whisper, pouring all of her anger into each syllable. "I _will not hesitate _to _beat you to within an inch of your life. No one _hurtsthe people I cherish_. No one_. "

"You don't understand at all!" the woman spat. "That girl is a demon! She is placing my children in danger and I will not allow them to fall under Soul Edge's spell! I will do whatever it takes to secure my children's future."

The wind blew between them, thick with its servant's anger and fury.

"I gave you fair warning," Talim said, drawing her elbow blades. Never had she risen them against another living being without fair reason. Talim knew this. The wind knew it.

"And I have chosen my path." The woman replied in a frosty voice, sliding into a stance.

_But they had someone to protect._

Talim lunged, shoving her shoulder into the woman's stomach, feeling the edge of the blonde's weapon slice across her cheek. Talim spun away, ducking and moving between the blonde's strikes; not completely unscathed, if the tiny cuts appearing on her body were any indication. She lashed out, clashing against the woman's shield, holdind up a weapon to keep the blade from cleaving her head from her shoulders.

They glared each other as they caught a breath.

"Why are you doing this!?" The blonde woman demanded.

"Because Tira is my _friend_," Talim hissed right back, "and I swear, I am going to protect her as long as she wants and needs me to!" They both shoved on their respective weapons, sending them back, Then they were right back into the fray, each acutely aware of what was at stake. Talim's breath whooshed out of her lungs as the shield slammed into her stomach. Taking a chance, she wrapped her right around around the woman's shield arm, blocking the oncoming stab with her left arm.

Talim's next move used her short height to her advantage. She reared back and slammed her forhead into the vunerable throat of the blonde woman, causing the mother to choak and stumble back to grab at her throat. Talim reacted quickly, her fingers finding the spot on the woman's neck. She pressed it savagely, and teal eyes fluttered closed. The woman crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Talim stood there, gasping for breath as she tried to form words around the anger still searing in her gut. Then something ice cold speared throught the anger; fear. Pure, unadulterated fear, bordering on terror.

_What if I hadn't been fast enough? What if I'd gotten here too late? Tira would be...she'd be..._

"Talim?" Tira's voice cracked through the sudden stillness. Talim turned to see the older girl holding the ring blade tightly, as if having an old friend back. "Talim, are...are you okay?"

Talim stumbled over and fell to her knees in front of Tira.

_What if I wasn't strong enough? What if I'm _not_ strong enough?_

A sob was caught in her throat.

_What if I can't save her?_

"Tira," Talim sobbed out, lunging forward and wrapping the raven haired girl in a tight hug. Tira had half the mind to push the sharp weapon out of the way before the embrace began.

_What if I can't protect her?_

Tira's arms awkwardly wrapped around her back.

_What if...?_

And they cried.

--

Notes:....

WOW.

OHO WOW.

RAEG!Talim. AWESOME.

Sophitia is fun as hell, Tira is...eh. Tira, I guess.

Before everyone gets on a rant and say that I'm bashing Sophitia, GET THAT OUTTA YA MINDS RIGHT NOW! I love Sophitia dearly, but, let's face it, in SC3 Sophie gets the shitty end of the plot stick. She'll get the good stuff later, don't worry.

READ THIS REAL QUICK, GUYS, IT'S GONNA ASPLAIN SOMETHIN': In case you haven't noticed, we now have a second "voice" to Tira. We have the Other, which is obviously Tira's Gloomy side, and then we have this new squeaky voice: her "Jolly" side.

Now, in SCIV you can switch between Gloomy and Jolly because Tira's a crazy mo-fo like that. But let's remember; Tira has a bi-polar disorder (which hasn't ben seen much in this fic, le sigh) and_ multiple personalities_. Keyword: MULTIPLE. The fact is, no one has ever seen the "real" Tira, since you can attest that SC3 Tira was a less annoying "Jolly" mode, so to speak.

Why does Gloomy and Jolly treat Tira as a completely different person? That's because, in a sense, she is. Tira, Gloomy, and Jolly are three seperate individuals here; for people with multiple personality disorders, they normally protect themselves from a specific traumatic emotion by creating someone else to take their place. Tira, as an assassin by birth, most likely "created" Gloomy to handle all the grisely business, all the hatred and anger and negative emotions. This is why Gloomy will constantly be antagonistic towards Tira.

Jolly, on the other hand--well, namewise, I really don't have to go into details. In SCIV, Jolly!Tira is very childish, speaking in a voice that grates on the insides of the brain with shards of glass, blowing raspberrys, calling people 'dummy', 'loser', and 'goody-goody'. We can say that Jolly is the child that Tira never was. This is where the humor will mostly come from, and why Jolly will continue to show support.

Does this mean that Jolly and Gloomy will be the only sides of Tira's deliciously frazzled mind we get to meet? Not by a long shot!

BTW, this is just a fan-based, quick little note to explain some of the ideas here. Many might have already caught on, but I just wanted to be sure.

You see? This is why Tira can be at once so utterly frustrating and awesome to write.

Next time! On the road again! Talim and Tira flee from their sanctuary (with Tira still half-naked, btw) and find a place to rest. However, the inn keeper is a sexist pig who keeps eyeing Tira up like a piece of eyecandy (which she is).

How can Talim keep her friend from being used as a tool?

Why, by claiming that the girls are lovers, of course. Small comedy chapter break from the drama/angst fest.


	9. Play Pretend

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: Now that the serious drama/angst is over, we can get to the flufff and relationship development.

Also, please let me know if the relationship is going way too fast. Feedback and suggestions are like pocky to me. And I fucking love pocky, so even imaginary feedback-pocky is delicious.

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

Dove: _paloma_ (Sorry Major, I looked it up this time. XDD;;)

--

:Chapter Eight: _Play Pretend:_

--

Tira didn't know why she was crying; she didn't know she _could_ cry. The tears just spilled out of her eyes and onto the warm skin of Talim's shoulder. She let out a shaky breath as Talim sobbed her name again, and kept whispering the words "I'm sorry" over and over again. Tira opened her mouth to tell the younger girl that apologizing was ridiculous, but then she realized it was ridiculous to argue.

Some part of Talim had been broken; some sort of promise to herself, perhaps. The girl was gentle, from what Tira had seen, yet unafraid to use some measures of force to defend herself, yet always making sure that the blows weren't fatal and the wounds wouldn't hurt too long. It would probably be her undoing in the end, but it had maintained an innocence in Talim and instilled a maturity that many adults lacked.

But Talim hadn't been gentle or pulled her punches just now; if it wasn't for the fact that it was Talim, Tira would have guessed that the blonde woman would be dead instead of simply uncoscious. Even furious, Talim had remarkable control over her own emotions and actions. But suddenly, a furious Talim was something Tira never wanted to see again; she rather prefered the young girl who never rose her voice beyond a high pitched squeak or a giggle.

"We have to go," Talim whispered softly, hiccuping back tears. "We can't stay here; she'll wake up sooner or later. I don't want...I don't want her to hurt you."

_Or are you afraid of being like that again?_

Tira nodded and loosened her arms; Talim stayed a minute longer, squeezing her neck lightly, before stumbling onto her feet. Wiping at her eyes, Talim set about collecting the damp clothing hanging on the branch.

Tira stared at the bodies of the Watchers; her eyes stung again, and more tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. The remaining ravens all let out mournful cries as they gazed at their fallen breatheren. Tira bit her lips to keep a pained whimper from escaping her mouth. She didn't want to leave them there, all alone on the ground and ripe pickings for the scavangers. Yet she knew they didn't have a lot of time; they had a lot of ground and tracks to cover. The blonde woman had found them once; if they didn't move soon, no doubt they'd be found again.

Still...to leave them like this...it tore at something deep inside of her body.

**The Master won't be pleased that His spies are dead**, the Other growled darkly.

_Why do the good die young!?_ wailed the squeaky voice

And things were getting worse. The voices were back.

The dull shine of her ring blade caught her eyes. No, it wasn't dull, now that Tira took a second glance. It was practically glowing. More than that, the minute she touched the metal with her fingertips, it was like something was being slipped back into place.

Talim had went through the trouble of getting it back.

**She's up to something!** warned the Other. **No one can be this giving, this selfless without an ulterior motive.**

Tira ignored the voice, running her fingertips affectionately over the warm planes and surface of the ring blade. A loss replaced by another gain. Tira supposed she should feel happy about this, but she couldn't. Not so soon.

"Tira?" Talim's voice was still shaky. "Tira, let's...let's get moving."

"Right," Tira agreed. She looked over and saw Talim arranging the blonde woman onto her side, making sure her airway was clear. Blood still oozed from the woman's nose and a split upper lip, and Tira knew that they would be smarting for a few days.

Tira stood, and gave the deceased ravens one last, achingly soft glance.

"Oh, wind," she could hear Talim whispering softly. "Please take very good care of them."

The breeze that followed was warm.

--

"I did not think we would see a road this soon," Talim said weakly a few hours later. She shifted her rucksack to another shoulder, flattening her lips and not taking her eyes away from the dusty road, kicking away stray pebbles.

"Mm," was all Tira said in reply.

The sudden, awkward silence between them was uncomfortable. What had happened, Talim thought to herself. They had been getting along reasonably well.

"Perhaps there will be an inn we can stay at."

This wasn't even graced with a response.

_Is she mad at me?_ Oh...perhaps it was because of they way she had fought with that blonde woman. Tira was probably disgusted with her loss of control. Or maybe not; maybe Tira was mad because the ravens were still on the floor of that forest, just waiting for other animals to pick at the remains. Talim flushed with shame; she felt her ears burn with it.

_That_ was it! It was because of the disrespect that Talim had shown to her birds! That was the reason Tira couldn't look her in the face.

"I am sorry," Talim said suddenly, catching Tira's wrist and pulling the other girl off guard to a stop. "I have shown you great disrespect! I could not save your friends, nor did I give them a proper burial; I have been selfish and--"

"Talim," Tira said roughly, "_shut up_."

Talim buttoned her lips and flinched.

"I'm _not mad _at you," Tira continued. "You saved my life. You're doing all of this for me. You're my...my _friend_." The word sounded foreign on Tira's tongue. "I'm just...just lost in thought."

Talim smiled, despite the embarrassment threatening to eat her alive. Tira looked away, and sighed.

"You're doing this for me and expect nothing in return," Tira whispered. "I have no right to be angry with you."

Talim frowned as Tira began to walk again.

"It's not a crime or a sin to be angry with me, Tira," Talim said, catching up to her friend.

Tira laughed, a bitter sound. "For me, it is."

Talim chose not to press the issue, but decided to discuss it with her further. For now, they had to find an inn to rest in for the night. Staying too long in one place could turn out to be fatal for Tira...or anyone who tried to hurt her.

--

Tira knew that she must have been quite a sight. Deciding that wearing her green outfit would only do more harm than good, the outfit had been stashed in Talim's extrodinarily handy bag, and two strips had been torn from it to make a pait of bandages around the palms of her hands. Her boots, remarkably, had been salvagable enough to wear so that she wouldn't be walking around barefoot, although the matter of the crimson blanket was still in question.

Still, Tira found it hard to care what others might think; Talim had no trouble with how she looked, and Tira guessed that it was a good thing. Besides, the green outfit was arguably worse than what she had on now; at least this covered a bit more skin. Maybe. Tira wasn't too sure.

"Ah," Talim sighed. "There's an inn up the road; I can see the roof from here."

Sure enough; a little while later, they had walked through the open doorway and into the stifi;ing heat of the inn lobby. Tira held her breath at the musty smell of dust and sweat invaded her senses; she saw Talim hide a gag behind a well timed cough.

"Welcome," a scruffy man grizzled half-heartedly. "'Spose you'll be wantin' seperate rooms then. 'Bout fifteen silver pieces each."

Even Tira knew that was a bit too much for a dump like this. She stiffened when the man's eyes shifted to her and raked over her body. An uncomfortable squirm started in her gut, and bile rose to the back of her throat.

"But maybe I can lower the price for you," he snickered, grinning and showing off yellowed, gaped teeth in a lecherous grin. Tira easily slid the ring blade off her shoulder and let the heavy metal thud onto the floor. She bared her own teeth, glaring; the man just smiled wider, heaving wheezing laughs, as if her defiance was the most amusing thing to see.

"Two rooms won't be necessary," Talim spoke up, slipping an arm around Tira's waist and tugging them into an embrace that seemed far more intimate than the previous ones. "We'll just need one."

"What? Sisters or some shit like that?" The man laughed again. "C'mon short-stuff, lighten up and let your sister pay like all good girls shou--"

"Sir," Talim suddenly snapped, the arm around Tira's waist tightening. "I do not appreciate you talking to _my lover _in such a manner!"

Tira's jaw dropped, along with the man's. They both stared blankly at Talim, who glared at the man and--Tira let out a small little noise in the back of her throat--let her fingers toy with the hem of the crimson wrap.

"You're..." the man sputtered. "You two are...?"

"For a few years now," Talim said softly. "We met and...sparks just flew. It was like a battle." The younger girl's cheeks flushed, as if recalling _another_ kind of battle between them.

_Oh ho hoooooo! Workin' the ol' charms, are we now? _the squeaky voice cackled, not helping the situation at all. _Wooooo! Now we're gettin' somewhere!_

"Oh...Oh! Oh, um, uh I--" The man's mouth opened and closed. "T-ten pieces please."

Talim just smiled brightly, and released Tira's waist to dig around in her bag for the required money. After paying, the stunned man handed them the key, and, with an all too innocent giggle, Talim took the shell-shocked Tira's hand and led them up to their room.

--

"What the hell was that?!" Tira demanded when they had gotten into the room. "Y-You just told him that we--that we were--we had--what the hell!?"

"It was required," Talim replied. "I'm used to telling such things; I did this multiple times when I was traveling with my friend Yun-seong."

Tira's face was suddenly dark and...angry? No, that wasn't anger, it was...jealousy? How odd. "You told them that the two of you were _lovers_!?"

"Oh, of course not! Yun-seong is very sweet, yes, even if he is a bit of a--what did he call it?--a knucklehead?" Talim giggled. "He is a good friend, nothing more. We told them we were siblings; I think we bickered enough to help the charade." When Tira's face didn't relax, Talim blinked and her brows furrowed. "Tira? Are you angry that I lied?"

"No. But now that pig's probably gonna get off on the lie." Tira's cheeks suddenly flushed, as if the thought hit her too.

"Perhaps." Talim shuddered. "But I was honest in saying that I did not care for the way he looked and spoke to you. And he would have tried something horrible if we took seperate rooms."

Tira looked away. "I can sleep by myself. I don't need a babysitter. And even if he did try anything, I would have stopped him."

"I know, but...but I would prefer not to engage in violence if it's not nessecary." At this, Talim looked down at her hands. "I am sorry to make you go through this, Tira."

Tira's face softened into a minor grimace. "It's no big deal. Just...warn me next time you do something like that. Alright?"

Talim nodded, still looking at her hands. At that moment, the young girl looked too much like a kicked puppy. Tira rolled her eyes and forced down a smart comment.

"Don't look like _that_," she said, half of her words coming out as a scoff. "You're too pretty to look like that."

Talim's head shot up, her mouth open, just a bit. Tira clamped a hand over her mouth.

"I'm...pretty?" Talim repeated slowly.

"Pr..pretty...uh," Tira swallowed. "You're pretty, er...s-silly! I meant to say you're pretty silly to pout like a nine-year-old would!"

Talim blinked. "No, you said I was pretty!"

"I said no such thing," Tira retorted stubbornly, crossing her arms. "No. Such. Thing."

"Yes you did," Talim said, and the ends of her words curled into a giggle. "You said I was pretty! I heard you!"

"No I didn't!"

_Yes you di-id_, the squeaky voice said in a sing-song tone.

"You said," Talim said, giggling, "I was_ pretty_. _You_ think I'm pretty."

Tira frowned. "I told you I didn't say anything like that!"

"Well," Talim's giggles stopped, and she was smiling in that way that caused something hot to pierce the bottom of Tira's sternum. "I think you're pretty."

Tira tried to speak around the lump in her throat. Her cheeks and the tops of her ears felt fr too warm; that hot feeling under her sternum began to bubble and boil until the fizzy sensation started to resonate inside of her chest.

Was she....happy?

_Oh yay!_ the light voice squealed. _Here I go! Sorry boo-boo-kins, gotta do my job now!_

Before the world was eclipsed in strange, giddy light, Tira thought, _Boo-boo-kins? What?_

--

Talim saw the sudden shift in Tira's eyes and face; the older girl's eyes were suddenly bigger and a somewhat maniacal smile grossed over her face. The wind pulsed, and began to swirl; it wasn't the dark wind, but something far more gentle, happy. Talim might have gone as far to say it reminded her of the wind that surrounded the young children in her village, but Tira was no child.

Tira suddenly dissolved into a fit of sharp, high-pitched giggles. Talim actually drew back in shock. Tira had never laughed, not like that. And besides, this sounded...insane. Like...

"Oh ho ho!" Tira said through her giggles, her voice suddenly as sharp and high as her laughter. "You're a lot cuter in person! And shorter too! Hee hee, you're fun size!" Tira laughed again.

Talim stared blankly. She was suddenly aware that her jaw was hanging, and closed it, swallowing. Perhaps the evil wind had gotten to her friend and she had snapped...?

"Oooh, I haven't been out in a long time," Tira whistled, her lips forming a pout. "'Bout time Boo-Boo-Kins got happy!"

"Boo-Boo-Kins?" Talimm echoed, her voice rising at the end.

Tira seemed to finally remember that she was in the room. The girl took one look at Talim, and lunged forward. Talim yelped--

--As Tira's arms wound around her body in a brutal hug. Tira quite easily lifted Talim off the ground a few inches.

"I just gotta thank ya', Tiny!" Tira squealed, hugging tighter. "It's 'cause'a you I get to enjoy the fresh air!"

_"The me I am now...am I the same person I was then?"_

"You're..." Talim swallowed. "You're not Tira...are you...?"

"Nope!" Not-Tira answered brightly, letting Talim go. "Boo-Boo-Kins is taking a break right now! You see, Boo-Boo-Kins--"

"Could you...not call her that...her name is Tira..."

"Well, sheeesh!" Not-Tira blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes. "Well, fine! Can I go on?!"

Talim nodded slowly.

"Thank you! Well, anyway, Tira," Not-Tira said, stressing the name, "is inside, with the rest of the family."

"What?" Talim blinked, tilting her head to the side. Not-Tira pointed to her temple, smiling.

"She's inside here," the finger moved to the spot over her heart, "and inside here! You see, when you said that really sweet thing to Tira, you made her happy. Tira doesn't know how to be happy. But I do! So when she's happy, I'm here to help her get all the warm fuzzies out into the open!"

Talim's breath caught at the implications. "Tira...Tira can't..."

"She can't be truly happy," Not-Tira said again, never losing that cheerful tone and expression. "Just like she can't get mad, or sad, or afraid! She has all of us to do it for her. Isn't she such a lazy girl?"

Talim's heart was pounding. "Oh Tira," she whispered softly, closing her eyes.

"Hee hee," Not-Tira giggled. "You know, ya gotta be careful around Big-Bad-an'Broody."

"...Who?"

"That really mean one," Not-Tira continued. "She's the one who's trying get Tira to kill you."

Talim's blood went cold. "W...what?"

_Tira wants to kill me?_

"Not that Tira's listening," the older girl said nonchalantly. "And because you're doing that white voo-doo thing you do, she's not talking as loud. Tira's getting stronger." And then the Not-Tira smiled widely. "Oopsies, I think I've outlived my stay here. Tira wants back out."  
_  
Tira..._

"But c'mere!" Not-Tira said warmly, "one more hug before you get your Boo-Boo-Kins back!"

"She's not my-" Talim began, before she was captured in yet another hug.

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention," Not-Tira snickered. "Tira's gonna be knocked out for a while. Looks, like you two get some snuggle time!"

"What!?" And then Talim found herself holding up Tira's limp body. Talim eeped as the unexpected weight pushed them ontop of the bed, Talim on the bottom.

_Oh dear_, she thought to herself, suddenly feeling heat rush to her cheeks._ This isn't good..._

--

To be continued

--

Notes: OH HA YES. JOLLY!TIRA FOR THE F-U-C-KING WIN.

Had so much fun with this chapter, AND with J!Tira.

ALSO!

I have a Deviant Art account, under the name tempestflame. In said DA, I've got some art for TFwwT posted up there. Go check'em out!

-shamelesswhoreage-


	10. Sweet Dreams

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. lD

Notes: HALLO. Now that teh funneh's over, here comes moar seriousness in all its angsty and dramatic glory. Joy. ALSO--introducing a new pair of 'gals I think we all awaited with baited breath!

Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!

BIGGER WARNING!: High T, perhaps light M for scenes of gore and implied character death.

TRANSLATIONS (so far):

Evil Spirit: _espíritu maligno_

Dove: _paloma_ (Sorry Major, I looked it up this time. XDD;;)

--

:Chapter Nine: _Sweet Dreams_:

–

_Tower of Remembrance—Ancient Gate_

–

Amidst the hissing pops of the boiling lava just below them, the loud, clanging tones of metal upon metal rang in the air, as clear as church bells. With sparks sizzling between the place where the edges of death danced, Isabella "Ivy" Valentine was caught in the piercing, amber gaze of a predator. Through the gaps of her opponent's helmet, the alchemist could see twin pools of molten fire, narrowed in determination, defiance, and perhaps a bit of battle-lust. The snarling wolf-helm might have intimidated others, but for Ivy, the canine motif served as merely a fancy decoration, one that was not needed on the battlefield.

"My, aren't we overdressed, wolfling?" she muttered, half to herself, half to the young girl before her. An almost growled curse was the armored girl's response, and she lunged farther upon Ivy, spear and short sword swinging, whistling through air. Ivy let up and slid fluidly away from the girl's weapons, unable to resist smirking.

The smirk dropped a bit when pain stung across her left cheek, followed by the slow slide of blood. She'd managed a hit—the little wolfing had managed to _land an attack._ How...remarkable. Ivy's eyebrows rose as she raised a hand to her cheek to feel the wound. Her lips parted in surprise.

A metallic chuckle rang from within the helm of her opponent.

"My, aren't we a bit _underdressed_, madam," was the taunting reply. "You dress like a streetwalker, and yet you speak like nobility." And, with a grimmer tone, "Not to mention you fight like a demon."

"Aren't you just a charming little pup," Ivy commented dryly. "You _certainly_ know how to compliment a lady."

"Well," the girl bent into low crouch, once again reminding Ivy of creature adorning the girl's armor. "If you're _finally _willing to tell me what you know of the Evil Seed and the Evil Sword, I'd be more than happy to give you all the _compliments_ you desire."

"As _tempting_ as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't do that, wolfling." _Valentine _shuddered in her grip, and Ivy willed the blade to fall from its solid form to coil around her shoulders, poised like a viper. The girl drew in a sharp breath.

"Fitting," the girl finally said, "for someone like you."

_Valentine_ thrummed, the metal humming in Ivy's ears. "Oh? Does it now."

"Ties the streetwalker theme in quite nicely," the girl said.

And suddenly, words were no longer needed. _Valentine_ shot towards the girl with a mere flick of Ivy's wrist, the separated blades winding their way through the air with serpentine like grace. The girl used the short blade in her left hand to avert _Valentine's_ direction, only to have the snake blade wrap around her armored back in an attempt to trap her arms together. With a loud shout of indignation, Ivy's opponent found herself ensnared in _Valentine's_ coils, her right arm trapped against her side, the spear tossed to the ground.

Then, with a hidden smile that Ivy just _knew_ was there, the girl revealed that, when adverting _Valentine's_ course with the short sword, there was a gap just big enough for the slight girl to slip through and _escape._

No one had ever escaped Ivy's hold. Never. Not a single living soul—all except this slip of a girl, clad in a suit armor adorned with wolves and eyes of amber.

"What's wrong, my lady," the girl called out, almost tauntingly, "Not used to having things not go your way?"

Ivy frowned, and the girl froze, as if acknowledging the fact that, with just her short sword as her defense, she was at a grave disadvantage. One that Ivy was all too happy to take.

The alchemist charged forward, a direction that was certainly different from her previous strategy of attacking from afar. The girl was stunned and tried to move towards the side a moment too late; Ivy allowed _Valentine_ to whip out, catching the front of her opponent's closed helm and flinging the armored girl backward, landing with a painful sounding thud upon the stone platform.

Ivy watched with a morbid anticipation as the girl turned onto her stomach and forced herself to her hands and knees, face still hidden. Then, the girl stood. Her hands raised and caught the helm, tugging it upward and allowing a wealth of fire-red hair to tumble around her armored shoulders. The girl turned, and Ivy got a look at her opponent's face.

Her jaw may have hung—Ivy hadn't been expecting to discover her opponent was just a mere _child._

Full, lush lips curved into a smile. A dangerous one, Ivy noted. Cunning—almost wolflike, loathe as she was to use the description.

"Surprised, Lady Streetwalker?"

Ivy closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes. "A _child?_ What does a _child_ want with Soul Edge!?"

The red haired girl's face shifted and those amber eyes seemed to glow once more, with a bitter, seething hatred that had been tending to for years. A hot, ferocious anger bled into that elegant face. "Is that the name of the sword that left my father a mindless beast? Is that the name of the sword that robbed my kingdom of it's king!?"

Ivy ground her teeth. Enough was enough; Soul Edge had ruined scores of lives, and she'd be damned if she let another child fall victim to the cursed sword. "Leave that sword be, wolfling."

"What do you know of it?" demanded the girl."Tell me everything you know of this Soul Edge!"

Ivy glared harder. "_No."_

"_Tell me!"_

"_I'll do no such thing!"_ Ivy spat, _Valentine_ lashing out at the girl. She blocked its strike with the armor of her forearms; sparks flew where the metal collided. The red haired girl managed to stave off _Valentine's_ attack, then charged forward, howling an enraged battle cry. Ivy retracted _Valentine_ and let the enchanted weapon resume its sword form, just in time to clash with the girl's blade.

The force behind the girl's attack pushed Ivy backwards; the silver haired alchemist dug in her heels and pushed back, unprepared for such brutal, angry force. Ivy stared down, and ice met fire.

"_Please"_ the harsh word was spoken between clenched teeth. Ivy drew in a quick breath, startled to see the armored child staring up at her with such intense _longing_, that it stole her breath away. "_Tell me. _I just want to save my father—please, tell me about Soul Edge..."

"I _can't_. I won't let you get entangled with its darkness, wolfling."

The girl parted her full lips. "_Please..._"

Ivy closed her eyes. Had she once been like that? Had she once been eager to save someone she loved like that? So eager to plunge herself into hell to save someone who was already damned?

Of course she'd been. And look where it'd gotten her.

"No," Ivy replied. "I won't tell you anything about Soul Edge."

There was a choked sigh—and then a whispered, "So be it."

And then an armored fist slammed into her stomach. Ivy let out a hoarse shout, breathless, unable to hold out against the girl's attack. The red haired wolfling sent them both to the ground—Ivy noticed that her head was somehow carefully cradled in a slender palm—and then the tip of a sword was placed at her throat.

She'd just been beaten by a _child._ A _child!_

"Yield," the girl demanded softly, and at that moment she seemed to decades older.

"Y-yield?" Ivy coughed, drew in a heavy breath to regain her lost air. Didn't medieval knights used to do this sort of thing?

"Yes, my lady," the girl said in that same, innocently soft tone, slowly letting the back of Ivy's head rest gently on the stone. "Yield. Since you refuse to tell me anything of Soul Edge...I'm afraid I've wasted a great deal of time with you."

Ivy let out a long, slow sigh. Unknown to the girl, _Valentine_ has been released yet again and was waiting for the moment to strike.

"How...chivalrous," the alchemist murmured softly, narrowing her eyes. "My dear wolfling...I've got a bit of advice for you."

And in an almost whisper, Ivy said, "Chivalry is _dead._"

_Valentine_ wrapped around the girl, securely snapping the girl's arms to her sides. The short saber clatter uselessly to the ground as its owner was ensnared once more, and Ivy sat up with only a slight wince. The girl was soon thrashing in the bladed trap, spitting out curses as Ivy rose to her feet. She quickly put an end to the girl's attempts of escape by placing a booted foot on the red haired wolfling's breastplate, forcing the girl to her back.

The girl's neck was craned to look up at the alchemist. Those pretty amber eyes were practically bulging in their sockets with...terror. Ivy sighed again, frowning. She didn't like that—that pure terror in such a pretty child's eyes made her stomach turn.

"Yield," Ivy said in a monotone voice.

The girl swallowed thickly. "...I yield." And then she closed her eyes, and let her head fall back with a defeated sigh.

Ivy paused for a moment. "I'd have to kill you in order to keep you from going after Soul Edge...wouldn't I?"

"I'm...afraid so, my lady," the girl replied.

There was a lengthy, tension filled pause. The girl swallowed again, and Ivy could see the pulse point at her neck hammering.

"If Soul Edge were to be destroyed by anyone," Ivy began, "would you be satisfied?"

"Yes," the girl answered. "As long as that evil is purged from this world, as long as my father is finally saved from his madness, I will no longer pursue revenge."

She was making a mistake. She knew it.

"Come with me, wolfling."

The girl's eyes widened even more. "What...?"

"Destroying Soul Edge is my purpose," Ivy said. "Come with me and then, perhaps, you'll be able to see your father's damnation purged the world."

The air between them was silent once more. And then, the girl smiled. She smiled so wide it was almost considered to be a grin.

The sight tugged at something in Ivy's chest.

"Yes," the girl said, "I'll join you, my lady."

Ivy finally commanded _Valentine_ to unwind from the girl's body, only to raise both eyebrows in shock as the girl rolled to her feet and...kneeled before her.

"My lady," the girl spoke in a practiced, formal tone that almost made Ivy gag a bit, "for not only sparing me, but for aiding me as well...as the heir to the throne of Wolfkrone, I, Hildegard von Krone, am in your debt."

"Hildegard von Krone, eh?" Ivy rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, stand up...this isn't the Dark Ages..."

"Ah--" Hildegard stood to her feet, almost appearing to...flush? "My apologies..."

Ivy let out a hum. "Hildegard...? War and protection...odd contradiction you are, wolfling."

"I prefer to go by Hilde, my lady," Hilde said in a light tone, reaching for her saber.

"Isabella." Hilde blinked, tilting her head in a curiously puppy-like manner as she slid the sword in its sheath. "My name. It's Isabella Valentine." Ivy grimaced. "But you'll call me Ivy. I accept no substitute."

There was a light, almost weary giggle from Hilde. "Very well, Lady Valentine."

Ivy let out an equally weary sigh.

Oh, yes, a mistake indeed.

--

_Inn_

--

_Tira opened her eyes slowly, hissing as sunlight hit her sensitive eyes. Blocking out the bright light with a hand, the girl stood to her feet. The red shift she wore seemed contrasted sharply against such a pleasant background. The grass was soft, almost like silk, rippling in luscious waves in the wind. Tira held her breath at the sight. It was beautiful..._

_And best of all, it was quiet. The voices weren't talking; Tira couldn't even feel their presence inside of her soul. It was...it was a relieving and terribly lonely feeling, all at once. _

_A small hand slid into her own; a soft sigh met her ears._

_Talim stood beside her, her face void of any emotion. A white dress fluttered around the tops of her knees; her hair had been freed, and it danced in the wind Talim adored. Tira's fingers closed over Talim's hand._

_"You look so sad." Tira tightened her grip. The younger girl didn't respond. "Talim?"_

_"You're free," Talim whispered. She closed her eyes. "You can't hear them, can you?"_

_Tira took a breath. "How did you...?"_

_Then, the warm wind turned bitter and cold; Talim yanked her hand from Tira's grip, holding it to her chest as she began to back away. Tira turned to face her friend, frowning in concern. "Talim?"_

_"You're free," the wind priestess said again, starting to shake. _

_"Talim--"_

_The ground erupted beneath their feet; branches and brambles shot from the mutilated soil and surrounded Talim, lifting the younger girl off her feet and digging in ebony thorns into her flesh. The branches slapped Tira away, sending her sprawling to the grass._

_Talim's pained scream cut into the air; Tira watched in something close to horror as branches split in two, multiplying and growing in number as they wrapped around her arms and legs, tightening until Tira could practically hear the bones cracking under the pressure._

_"No!" The word was ripped from her throat in a terrified scream. Tira lunged for Talim's free hand, cutting her hand on the thorns of the black branches. Yet, for some reason, she couldn't grasp Talim's hand; the branches shoved her back again in retaliation._

_"Tira," Talim whimpered. Her young face wasn't composed as it had been earlier; terror was the only emotion Tira could see as a branch encircled her friend's throat and dug in. Talim choked out another scream, sobbing. Her white dress was slowly turning red from her blood._

_Tira felt an odd sensation; she looked down and drew in a sharp breath. Where Talim's dress was slowly bleeding red, Tira's was slowly bleeding white._

_"You're free," Talim wheezed in a hoarse voice._

_Tira looked back up, only to see her friend being completely covered in a make-shift bubble of the branches. Talim's screams were muffled, but to Tira's ears they couldn't be louder. Soon the assassin couldn't even see the younger girl anymore. _

_Then the branches collapsed onto each other, pressing into a tight ball; a sickening crunch followed. The noise echoed in Tira's ear, long after Talim's cries stopped._

_She couldn't breathe. The last of her dress was bleached white, just as red started to seep through the branches to pool on the grass below, dripping down in a sick parody of rain._

_"We couldn't save her," a small voice said in a whimper. Tira looked to her right....only to see herself. The other Tira was biting her lips as she sobbed into her knees, rocking back and forth. "She's dead, she's _dead_! She's _dead_ and we couldn't save her, _we couldn't do anything!"

_Tira felt her breath catching. "No..."_

_"Dead dead dead, all because we couldn't..."_

_"_No_!"_

_"Deaddeaddeaddead--_

_"NO!"_

--

The dream shattered like glass—Tira's eyes snapped open and a scream was caught in her throat. She was shaking, her muscles convulsing in waves. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, her stomach rolled. She swallowed the lump in throat and took a few, gasping breaths._ Keep calm...keep calm...it was a dream, it was a dream..._

"Tira?"

_Talim--_

Tira's eyes shut tightly. Her chest seemed to contract on itself, her ribs squeezing on her heart.

"Tira, you're shaking."

_Stop, just—just calm down. Calm down, calm down. Stay in control. Stay in control, please, just don't let **them **come out again..._

Soft, cool fingertips glided along her cheek, then up to her forehead, brushing away a few, sweaty strands of hair.

"It's alright."

A sob tried valiantly to make it's way out of her chest, only to be thwarted by a well timed spasm of the diaphragm. Tira's eyelids pressed tighter together, and her teeth sunk into the inside of her bottom lip.

"I'm here..."

And reality began to shift into focus again. The sheets bunched beneath her back were coarse, with a texture similar to that of a potato sack. The air smelled like dust and old wood. She could feel a slight weight on her torso, anchoring her to this gritty, filthy reality.

Tira opened her eyes again. She bent her head down and Talim's eyes met hers.

For a moment, they didn't say anything.

"You had a nightmare," Talim said, then glanced down at Tira's collarbone, as if ashamed to have spoken the obvious.

"Yeah," Tira said thickly, then glanced up at the ceiling. She said nothing further, and Talim didn't press.

_I dreamed that you died._

The words pressed against her teeth, begging to be released—perhaps if Talim knew just how utterly warped and twisted and malformed her mind was, maybe then...maybe...

Maybe she wouldn't be in danger.

But...was her dream a vision? A warning? Tira wasn't a prophet. She'd never had any dreams of the future; most of her dreams were fragments of her past, if she even had one to begin with. So, logically, this nightmare wasn't a warning—it was a nightmare. A dream. Something her wretched subconscious—more affectionately dubbed as the Other—whipped up to torment her with.

And, dammit, it was working.

"Tira," Talim's voice said sharply, and Tira's eyes widened when the younger girl balanced herself on her elbows, so that her face hovered a good six or seven inches away from Tira's.

Only a few, mere inches away... a darkening sky highlighted the young curves and dips in Talim's small face. A particular sense of déjà vu washed over her—hadn't the sun shone on Talim once before, just like this? Hadn't her breath been stolen away before, just like this?

No, it was different—Talim's eyes weren't like fire, this time. They reminded her of warmed cinnamon, almost. Or even the color of the earth after a spring rain...or something similar to that. Tira stared into them and felt overwhelmed by that look of determination that Talim often held in her face at these moments. Her chest seemed to contract even further at the sight.

"I'll stop this," Talim said, her small voice strong and firm. "I won't let you hurt like this anymore."

"Why?" Tira croaked out. "_Why_? Why are you doing this?"

"Because--" Talim stopped. "I...I want to help you. You don't deserve to hurt like this."

And that was the farthest thing from the truth. Talim may not have known what Tira's past contained—but Tira knew. She didn't deserve salvation, of all things; that was for people who hadn't killed as much as she had—for people who hadn't sinned as much as she had.

She tensed when Talim's forehead lowered onto her own. Every muscle locked firmly into place, every movement stilled. Talim seemed not to notice; the younger girl just kept staring. Tira didn't want to even _think_ about breathing—everything seemed to hang on this one, breathless moment. Talim's eyes closed; her face lowered. Time crashed to a grinding halt.

Tira felt her lips gently press onto her cheek.

She took a sharp breath through her teeth at the tenderness held there; the warmth that was starting to spread all across her face from that one simple gesture. Had...anyone ever done this before? Ever? She couldn't remember—and in fact, she didn't. Because, if she remembered one tidbit from her past, what would stop other memories from resurfacing. Memories that she'd rather stay forgotten; memories that the Other would delight in.

And besides; the thought of Talim being the first one to show her this sort of kindness...

She liked it.

"Sweet dreams, _cuervo_," Talim whispered into her ear.

Tira's eyes closed, and a small smile spread over her face.

Maybe she would have sweet dreams. Just...maybe.

–

_To be continued..._

--

Notes: To my knowledge, _cuervo _is Spanish for 'raven'. Correct me if I'm wrong.


	11. Intruder

Disc: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur, but MAN I wish I did. |D

Notes: Why hello there everyone. I love you all for your supportive, encouraging reviews and all of your praise, even when it's not deserved. And many thanks to those who gave me constructive advice, because with your help, maybe I can make this story a little better~

Also, want to give a big hueg thanks to SephiBea--'cause without her, this chapter would have remained in my hard-drive for many many more months!

_**Warning!: It's a very AU-ish version to Talim's storyline. I mean, completely AU. So, please, before you get all up on my case about the butchered-ness of it, remember: AU. Thank you!  
**_  
Also as a warning, to my displeasure, I will have to introduce an OC. Blergh. I hate these things in my fiction, but for this case, it's needed. Don't worry, she won't be a Sue, I promise :3 Although you're probably going to hate her anyway, since she's written to be hated.

--

TRANSLATIONS (still in use, for the moment):

_Spanish_  
Raven: _cuervo_

--

:Chapter Ten: _Intruder:_

--

What was this?

It was warmth; the kind that seeped into a weary, bruised body and filled it with energy. The snug, gentle reassurance of arms around her waist, hands digging just so gently in her back. The slight rise and fall of a person's breathing, the steady drumming of a heart. The faint traces of artificial lavender, and beneath it, the strange, spicy scent of life. Even the musty smell of the sheets only served to add to the magic.

What was this?

This was something akin to ecstasy. Or maybe it _was_ ecstasy. Or maybe it was something entirely different. Her mind was too sleep befuddled to decide.

She sighed out a breath as her mind half rose into consciousness, the other still submerged in the gentle rise and fall of dreams. She wiggled, rising more into awareness as the hands on her back tensed, blunt nails pressing into her skin, a soft sound, almost like a coo, echoing in her ears.

Breathing out a tiny little mewl and giving into her fate, Talim opened her eyes, the corners of her vision still hazed with sleep. Last night had been positively _awful_. It felt like she'd barely gotten any sleep at all. She sat up and yawned, one hand rubbing at her eyes and the other resting against a warm, smooth expanse of bare skin--

Talim stilled. Her eye, the one not covered by the heel of her hand, grew owlishly huge, and the yawn caught in her throat in a bubble of air. The eye looked down, and the bubble popped with a humiliating, girlish squeak.

The crimson wrap that had served as both clothing and nightwear for her friend was open.

Which meant that Tira was, unmistakably, undeniably _naked._

Which _also_ meant that she was straddling her taller (and _naked!_) friend in a very non platonic sort of way.

Talim sprung away, lithe and graceful like a doe, reaching back with her hand and catching the creaky wood of the footboard, using that one hand to flip herself over and land in a silent crouch.

She then toppled onto her bottom with another squeak as Tira let out a small gasp and sat up, awakened from Talim being wrenched from her grip. Talim clamped two hands over her eyes and crouched into herself, sitting lotus style, her face heating up.

"T-Talim?" There was a husky quality to Tira's voice that just _should not have been_. Talim felt the heat in her face rise another notch. "W-wha's wrong?" Tira paused as she yawned. "Trouble?"

"No! No trouble, everything's fine," Talim said in a rush.

A beat of silence. Talim heard the creaking of the bed and, as she peeked from the spaces between her fingers, she saw Tira's head come into view. Noting that her friend _still_ hadn't covered up, Talim closed her fingers and drew them tighter against her eyes.

"You look horrible," Tira said bluntly, but not meanly.

"And you're very nude." Talim gasped and sputtered, "_Rude! _I mean you're very _rude!_"

This was followed by a heavy pause. Talim's heart pounded loud and strong in her ears.

"Oh...Uhm." Tira's voice seemed to waver, as if caught between concerned and confused. Like she didn't know which to feel... "I'm sorry? For...being rude?"

Talim mumbled something incoherent and slumped further into herself. She considered pulling her hands away from her eyes, then thought better of it. "You—you don't have to apologize, Tira. You haven't done anything wrong, I'm just..." Talim closed her mouth and gathered her thoughts. "I'm just being silly."

Tira was silent. Then she said in a voice that was tinged ever so lightly with concern, "Are you sure you're okay? And why are you on the floor?"

"I d-didn't want to disturb your breast. _Rest! Your rest!_" The young priestess felt her skin alight with humiliation. She hadn't _meant_ to say...to say that word, really she hadn't! It had just slipped out! She groaned a little as the moment repeated itself in her brain, tormenting her. What she wouldn't give for the ability to erase time. She pressed her fingers hard into her forehead, as if to literally push the thoughts to the furthest recesses of her brain. The part that would never see the light of day again...

"Ah, my bre...oh. I—sorry." The mattress squealed loudly as Tira moved, searching for her cover. Talim tried to think of her grandmother's mantra, the small prayer that she had been taught for times such as this, when she was out of control of her own body.

_The Wind is with me, and I am calmed. The Wind is with me, and I am calmed. The Wind is with...  
_  
"I'm decent," Tira called out softly. Talim creaked open a small space in between her fingers and cautiously peeked open an eye. Deeming it safe, she relinquished the hold on her eyes and let her hands drop to her lap. And she wished she hadn't, because she found herself unable to blink or look away.

_...someone else at the moment, and I am most certainly not calmed.  
_  
Tira was, indeed, as decent as one in her situation could be. But there was a certain effect the older girl cast that made Talim's heart race wildly. Her short, unevenly cut hair was wild, in an attractive sort of way, framing her cheeks and face. Her eyes were...stunning. The vivid purple of her eyes was chipped, almost like shattered ice. Talim could see the tiniest flecks of red amidst the purple.

"You're staring."

"Huh," Talim replied with in a small voice, and blinked at last, as if awaking from a dream once more.

Tira blew a strand of hair out of her vibrant eyes. "You're staring at me."

"I am?" Talim covered her eyes again and felt her cheeks burst into flame—metaphorically of course. "Sorry..."

"S'okay," Tira said, and Talim had the image of her shrugging her pale shoulders. "...I didn't mind."

_The Wind is with me, and I am...oh, stuff it._ Talim ran her hand down her face, to the medallion around her neck. She held it in her hand, warmed the metal with her palm...and only then did she feel an almost eerie calm wash over her. The heat left her cheeks, at last, and her stomach stopped its churning.  
"I'm glad I didn't offend you," she said, smiling. Tira gave a soft hum in reply, eyes unreadable at that moment.

"We should get moving," the girl said briskly, standing from the bed and smoothing the red cloth over her hips. She looked at the mess of covers, her lips curled into a confused frown.

"Right," Talim agreed, standing up as well. She brushed out the wrinkles from her top and shorts, wishing she had at least brought something else to sleep in. She sighed, pulling on her stockings and shoes, and redoing her braids. Her hair looked halfway decent now, at least.

Tira, however, looked rather at a loss when she touched her own hair. She made a low noise in her throat when her fingers caught a tangle, wincing a little as she tugged it free.

"I'll have to see if we can get you a comb, or something," Talim said, watching the older girl prod and poke her hair.

The morning silence was shattered, suddenly, by the cry of one of Tira's Watchers. Tira stilled, eyes curiously blank. Her lips parted, as a second cry joined the first, and then another. Talim watched this, her stomach coiling.

Tira exploded into action, suddenly, tackling Talim to the ground with a speed that bordered on inhuman. Talim's startled shriek was cut off by one of the raven haired girl's hands clamping tightly onto her mouth, and then the two were beneath the bed. Unsettled at the girl's behavior, her nearness, and her strength, Talim began to struggle, muscles tensing.

"Shhh!" Tira hissed into her ear, throwing a leg over Talim's hips to keep her from moving. Talim felt her face flush again with heat, and she went limp. Talim focused instead on trying to breath correctly—it didn't help that Tira's arms were uncomfortably tight and her face was pressed into the hair on Tira's shoulder.

What's wrong, she wanted to ask—and then she heard the softest little chirp. It sounded musical in tone, sweet and light.

"Don't move," Tira mouthed against her ear; Talim froze again, felt her heart start to pound. The chirp sounded again—although, Talim noted, now there was a dark edge to it. A tap, tap, tap, and then—shattering glass. The fluttering of wings and the chirping again. A sudden wind pushed into the room and Talim heard a voice that seemed familiar, and yet unfamiliar. It wasn't the voice of the wind, exactly, more like a voice of someone she had known, and yet forgotten.

--**danger**-- the voice warned.

Talim closed her eyes. And Tira's arms tightened, and she drew in a breath and held it.

**--danger--** the voice said again, in a raspy tone.

They both heard the soft 'pat' as something settled on the bed above them. The chirp again. Talim could feel Tira's heart where it thundered against her own, felt the dust in her eyes. For a sickening moment, she thought that she might sneeze.

Then Tira's voice, low and softer than it had even been before, ghosted over the shell of her ear.

"Danger."

–

Their intruder was nothing but a mere bird—a nightingale, by the sound of it. A tiny little creature, who sang such a lovely tune at night. Nature's own little musician. Surely, it was the symbol of innocence.

Still, every one of Tira's internal alarms were ringing. The cries from her Watchers previously had warned her of danger—and indeed, there was. She saw what they saw; she heard what they heard. She felt what they felt, to a degree—it was the closest she had ever been to another living thing.

And the minute her Watchers had spied this little, feathered songbird, they had been alarmed. They had concealed themselves within the trees near the inn, but still gave her a view of the nightingale.

The very word nightingale made her head hurt; something important—some sort of memory—was associated with this bird. But what? Who? Her lack of knowledge frustrated her.

**She's found you**, the Other said grimly.** Guess who found you, fool. See, this is why you should have killed the chit when you had the chance! Killed her, and went on your way; but no, you just had to stay. Now look where it's landed you!**

_Shut up,_ Tira demanded. _Now's really not the time._

**Make me.**

Tira bit back a sigh and ground her teeth when the songbird intruder _forced_ its way inside by breaking the glass. This cemented Tira's rising suspicion that this was no ordinary bird. Something dark was pushing it, something evil lurked beneath its skin.

**Kind of like you.**

_Didn't I tell you to shut up_, Tira thought back, her head starting to pound. Talking to the Other was a pain on its own—now she had the building frustration inside of her to cope with. The potent mixture of negative emotions stirred hot inside of her gut, and she tightened her grip on Talim--

_Talim._

**Her fault we're in this me--**

_For the last time, shut up!_ At least Talim was following her instructions. The girl hadn't moved or said a peep after Tira had told her to be still. There were going to be bruises from where her fingers dug into Talim's shoulder, Tira realized. Later, she thought to herself, she was going to berate herself for it—for now, she was more worried about the nightingale that stank of evil.

"Danger?" Talim whispered back, her voice nothing more than a wash of air against Tira's throat. "Explain."

Tira paused, muscles tensed when the bird fluttered around the room, chirping loudly. Darkly. Almost growling...

"Evil," Tira mumbled at last, careful not to breathe in the dust from beneath the bed, lest she sneeze or cough. And she couldn't help adding, "Evil like me."

She could feel Talim's lips curve into a frown from where they were pressed against her neck. Tira froze, her stomach pushing her heart into her throat. She hadn't really noticed how close they had become. She closed her eyes, bit her tongue—hard. The Other was silent, for once, perhaps unsure of how to respond.

Finally, Talim spoke, "Let me go."

A chill seeped in her bones, for some reason. Tira croaked softly, "Why?"

"I have a plan."

And just like that, the chill was gone. Again, the Other had nothing to say.

"What is it?"

Above them, the nightingale actually _screamed_ in rage. Songbirds didn't do that.

"Let me go," Talim said, her mouth forming each word against Tira's neck, "and you'll find out."

–

Tira arms tightened briefly. For a moment, Talim thought she wasn't going to let go—and then the arms loosened.

"Can you see the bird," she asked breathlessly, quiet as she could muster. Tira's eyes went blank again, sightless and yet, all-seeing. Finally, she blinked and nodded. "Where is it?"

"Near the door," Tira murmured. "Back's facing us."

"Does it know we're here?"

"Yeah. Doesn't know where, but it knows we're in here."

"Distract it," Talim asked. Tira frowned a little, almost about to ask how—when she saw a piece of wood, perhaps the head of an old toy, sitting forgotten amongst the dust. Tira grabbed it and took a breath. She quickly threw it out from beneath the bed, where it clattered against the wall that held the window.

The bird let out a screech of triumph and fluttered to the source of the noise. Tira shirked back further beneath the bed, while Talim rolled from under it. She crouched, and held still.

The bird was a nightingale—was being the key word. Its brown feathers were matted with blood, and its wings were crooked and shaped _wrong_. It's small feet were tipped with ugly talons, and its breath rasped from its beak with ugly, wet sounds.

And from it pulsed the dark aura that had become so familiar to her. Tira had been right—the same evil that lurked within her friend had completely possessed this innocent little creature.

Luckily, Talim had experience with this.

She summoned a chill breeze, the wind blowing in strong from the hole made by the deformed songbird. Gathering her own wind around her hands, she leaped forward and managed to snag the bird.

Her hands began to sting from the dreaded contact. The bird's distorted energy clashed with her own, the difference something akin to fire blooming on her skin—or perhaps, something like ice. The nightingale let out another scream, head thrown back in a sick arch on its spine. The head rolled on its neck, beak snapping and shrill voice screaming.

It felt like a nightmare. Maybe it _was_ a nightmare.

With a sickening crunch, the nightingale's head _spun_ one hundred eighty degrees on its neck and looked her dead in the eye.

Talim knew that the bird was dead—she felt its tiny pulse skitter to a halt beneath the feathers. Something was wrong-- because the evil energy still burned her. She ground her teeth and tried to completely suppress the evil with her own, larger power.

It was working. She felt the evil pulse out, once, weakly; the songbird's beak opened—and then, like a candle snuffed out, the evil energy was gone. The bird had been purified. Talim let out a breath of relief.

And then something _inside_ of her reared up, something dark and ugly and vicious. The bird in her hands shrieked a cackle; and even though blood spewed from its beak and its heart didn't beat, it flew from her hands, and in mid air, righted its body with another crunch of bone. It laughed, the sound bouncing off the inside of her skull and Talim felt the _thing_ in her chest grow. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto her back. She ached.

**Found you.  
**  
She screamed as the _thing_ furling from her chest. She smelled a dark, spicy scent; blood spattered petals rose from her chest and into the sky, roots dug deeper into her body, thorns pricked the inside of her skin, and the nightingale above her continued to squeal and she was dying, she was _dying_--

"_**Talim!!**_"

--_d__**y**__i__**n**__g_--

**Found you, I found you, and I'm coming to play.**

--_d__**y**__i__**n**__g_--

"_Talim, wake up, wake up; it's over, it's over--_"

--_**d**__**y**__**i**__**n**__**g**_--

_Tira..._

--_**dead.**_--

–

"No, no, no." Her hands were shaking. Why were her hands shaking? She had to stop shaking.

_Calm. Have to be calm. Think of how Talim would—oh god, Talim._

"Shit, Talim. Breathe with me. Talim. Talim!"

Tira had known something was going horribly wrong the moment Talim had closed her hands around that damn bird. There was something that didn't sit right with her—her Watchers were in an uproar. She could feel their panic just as strong as her own—although she forced it back down her own throat. There was someone, another Other, peeking up out of her mess of a brain, reaching out with greedy fingers to suck her under.

_Let me feel this for you_, it cooed, _let me ease you_.

She'd ignored it. As blissful as the lack of feeling was, she needed to be coherent enough for Talim. Talim, who was on her back in the throes of_ something_. Something that was robbing her of breath—her lips were starting to turn blue.

The panic came back in a surging rage, followed closely by sorrow.

She pressed her hands to her eyes, hard, to push the Other(s) away. Then she bit her fingers and started to cry, hot little tears sliding down her cheeks. She found herself muttering, "Please don't die..."

One minute Talim had the little demon bird in her hands, and Tira could feel the sizzle of clashing energy. The next, the bird dropped from her hands like a stone—dead, but purified. And then the next, Talim had dropped to the floor in convulsions.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know _anything—_Talim was the more knowledgeable one. Talim knew what was needed and what was not.

**Tip her on her side.**

The harsh bark from the Other was startling—the voice rough with an emotion that Tira couldn't place. If, in fact, the Other had emotions at all.

**I don't, but you do. And all your damn whining is getting on my last nerve. Hey, you want her to choke on her own spit? No? Then tip her on her side.**

Tira reached out and shirked back when Talim's back arched off the ground and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

**Hurry!**

Tira did as she was told, gently moving the shuddering girl onto her side. Talim's body obeyed without complaint, but it still writhed. Rasping noises told Tira that she had at least started to breathe again.

_What do I do now?_ She asked silently.

**Just back off. Let her go.**

That same, scary chill from before seeped in at the words.

Then Talim screamed. Her body thrashed on the ground, and her eyes were open—but they were unseeing. Her hands clawed at her chest, and she was crying out, tearing at the skin there and _screaming_.

Tira grabbed her wrists, held the body still. "Talim," she said weakly, then again when the girl didn't respond. Finally, she shouted Talim's name; the girl stopped then, looked up and straight through Tira. The chill in her body sank in all to her bones when she saw Talim's blank, tortured stare.

"_Thorns,_" the girl sobbed.

And then she started fighting again, against a demon in her mind and her body.

"_Something_," she bit out, gasping for breath, "coming. **Singing**. _The nightingale_. It's _**still alive**_!"

"Talim, wake up, wake up; it's over, it's over. The bird's dead. It's dead." The tears were coming faster, now. Her heart pounded in her ears, trying to drown out Talim and the Other and everything in the whole damn world. Tira closed her eyes, hauled the shaking body in her arms. She pinned Talim's flailing arms to her sides, biting her tongue when the screaming started again.

A raven fluttered to the sill, cried out. Run, it said, purple eyes flaring. Run, run, danger still!

She heard a sick, wet pop. Tira clutched at Talim closer, looked down at the little body of the dead nightingale. The raven on the window cried out, harsher; Run!

The nightingale's head rose, and blank, red eyes stared deep into her own. Tira saw a pulse run through it—it was refilled with that evil energy Talim had cleansed not a minute ago. The auburn haired girl shrieked even louder as her body registered the vile wave, and Tira felt the hair on the back of her neck stand. Her skin tightened as she looked down at the disgusting puppet of a bird.

The nightingale observed both girls, clacked its beak, and spat blood at her feet—something in Tira's mind clicked, at that moment, and her heart lurched when she remembered the sign.

_Marked for death._

The bird whistled, stared long and hard at Talim. Then it turned back to Tira, and she could feel another set of eyes peering outward from the bird's face. Something _else_ was inside of that bird, a second soul, another, more intelligent and dangerous being. Its eyes lit up with recognition, and rasped, "_One of us_."

And it screeched, took off into the air and back through the window, causing the raven to fly off in alarm. The Watcher fluffed its feathers in agitation, and turned to Tira, crying from behind the glass; Run! Danger coming! Run, run!

Tira remained unmoving, cold inside and out. _One of us?_

**You idiot, listen to the damn birds and run!** Shrieked the Other, banging her fists against the inside of Tira's skull.

_What do I do? What do I do?_

**You're useless! Do I have to do everything myself!?**

_No! No, not now, no, I can handle this,_ Tira panicked, rose to her feet with Talim's shaking body still in her arms. She had to get Talim's weapons in her arms somehow, as well as her ring-blade, and the rucksack, and—it was too much. Too much. Overwhelmed, she sank on her haunches and laid her hot forehead to Talim's alarmingly cold skin. Too much, too much....

**You can't do a thing without me**, sneered the Other—and Tira waited for the world to go black...

...except it didn't. Not completely. She felt the same detachment from her body back when she was in the constant thrall of the voices in her head, but she could still see out of her own eyes. Tira watched as her body rose, no longer trembling, no longer crying. The chill was gone, or at least, Tira could no longer feel it.

"**Fine mess you've got us into now, dear**," drawled the Other from Tira's lips. "**Must I really be responsible for **_**everything**_** in your meager existence? Don't answer**," she said when Tira gathered the strength to form a mental reply. "**That was rhetoric.**"

_What are—how did—what's going on_, Tira finally managed. She saw the Other shift Talim in her arms, and bit out, _Don't hurt her!_

"**Oh, please. Are you going to spank me if I do?**"

_I'll make you regret you're alive,_ Tira said, making her voice lower to the same timbre as the Other's.

"**Oh hell**," scoffed the Other. "**You're an idiot. A melodramatic idiot. And you can't even come up with good threats.**" Tira watched her arms lower Talim onto the bed. Talim let out a feeble noise, and trembled. She turned on her side, curled up, bunched the sheets in her fists. Her skin was so pale—and the palms of her hands looked like she had just grabbed hot steel. Gods, what had _happened_?

The Other turned, strode to the window, and propped it open. She whistled for the Watchers, who had noticed the change in their mistress. Their eyes, Tira noted, were red, but it wasn't the same as the nightingale's.

"**Check the skies,**" the Other ordered. The ravens burst from the tree they had hidden in, beginning to scan the skies for more intruders. The Other smirked, turned from the window, and grabbed the ring-blade and Talim's rucksack. It was heavy—a peek inside revealed that Talim's weapons had been put inside. The Other hissed when her hand touched the steel of the ringblade, and without further ado, she dropped the items down onto the ground.

Satisfied, the Other made her way back to the bed, lifting Talim back up in her arms. The girl whimpered again.

"**Oh, how cute**," the Other said dryly. "**I think I might vomit.**"

Tira bristled. _Don't you dare hu--_

"**Fuck off, I heard you the first time**," she snapped. "**Now, kindly shut up. I'm getting our asses out of this mess.**"

_Why?_

The Other paused. Then she said, "**I told you before. I can't stand your constant whining. It makes me sick. And it's damn annoying.**"

_Or maybe you've had a sudden change of heart?_

"**You wish. Now, again, shut up. I need to concentrate.**"

_But--_

"**Shut up. Or I'll make you go away for real this time.**"

Tira was silent. The Other hooked Talim higher up in her arms and made her way to the open window. She climbed onto the sill, hissing a little as she rocked back and forth. Her muscles tensed, coiled, and after a pause, she leaped for the tree. Luck was on their side, to Tira's relief—the managed to land on a good branch, prickly twigs breaking against her skin. Talim, for the most part, hadn't been harmed—yet. The Other slunk down the tree, and the landed with catlike grace on the grass. She stood shook her head free of leaves and twigs. She set Talim down on the base of the trunk and went to grab the ring-blade and rucksack.

_How is this gonna work_, Tira asked weakly.

"**Simple. The pipsqueak holds the bag, I hold the pipsqueak on my back, and loop the ring-blade around my shoulder**."

_What if--_

"**I know what I'm doing.**" The Other huffed. "**By the way, do you know the meaning of shut up?**"

Without waiting for a reply, the Other moved fast—she slid the rucksack on Talim's shoulders, slid the unconscious girl on her back, and managed to hook her weapon on a shoulder.

Then they ran. Tira was surprised at the way the Other moved her body—the Other felt no exhaustion, only the relentless forward movement. The Watchers were following them, giving them cover and an alarm system.

So they ran, farther and farther away; the demonic nightingale was nowhere to be seen.

Still, its words rang through Tira's mind.

_One of us..._

But who, exactly, was 'us'?

–

"Welcome back, _mon petit ami_. How'd it go?"

Her voice was like the surface of an undisturbed pond—quiet, smooth. Peaceful.

Too bad it was a lie.

"Don't be shy, c'mon, tell me."

She already knew. The mistress was always with them. She had been a lurker inside the nightingale's mind, inside of its soul. The mistress knew exactly how everything had played out.

"Aw, not up for sharing,_ mon petit ami_? Then let me fill in for you. The rest of the class should know just how _splendid_ you did on your mission, _non_?"

The trees around them burst into song, the rest of the flock crying out in agreement.

"Ah, _oui, oui_! You all want to know how he did, don't you, _mon bébés!_ See,_ami_, you have such an eager audience. Let's not keep them waiting. Curtain's up, it's showtime."

The nightingale shrieked when clawed fingers dug into its frail body. Its mistress was _furious_ and it knew it. All among the trees, its brethren each sang in delight at its suffering.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce _mon petit ami's_ tragic tale of _failure._"

The bird clicked its beak, weakly.

"No no, none of that," the mistress chuckled, dirty red eyes alight with hellfire. "No excuses," she sing-songed. "You see, you fucked up." She laughed, tossed her hair. The string of cracked pearls tied into the tangles of her hair clicked together in a morbid melody. The mistress laughed again, "You really, really fucked up!"

The songbird cheeped, head lolling on its neck. Its eyes rolled in its skull, little lungs fighting for air in vain as the mistress tightened her fist. The birds around them screamed in rapture.

"You see, everyone, _mon petit ami_ was told to find and follow our old friend, _Le Corbeau_."

The nightingales in the trees all cried out with anger at the name, red eyes blazing and feathers puffin out in fury.

"Oh, such anger at _Le Corbeau_, _non_?" she giggled to the songbird she held in her fist. Her red stained mouth spread in a wide grin, empty eyes sparkling as blood trickled from the bird's beak. "Don't die now,_ mon ami_, I haven't gotten to the good part.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow _moi_ to continue, _s'il vous plaît_? _Merci, merci_. As I was saying, our hero here had the task of finding _Le Corbeau_. He succeeded in this, _oui._ But do you know what he was _not_ supposed to do?

"He wasn't supposed to engage her! He was supposed to track her, allow _moi_ to keep an eye on our slippery villain. But, alas, he did not do as I ordered. _Non_, quite the opposite.

"He was captured by a curious little girl who happened to be tagging along with our villain. And _mon petit ami_ was cleansed and then he died.

"Ah, but _la petit fille_ was weak! I was able to save _mon petit ami_, _oui_, but not before _Le Corbeau_ noticed us. And now, she will be that much harder to find again."

The mistress finished her tale and looked down at the trembling little animal she held in her grip. Her grin widened even further, eyes glowing brighter.

"And that's how you fucked up, _mon ami._"

She threw the creature to the ground, stomped on him with the heel of her boot. After hearing the squealing cries of the nightingale and the crunch of bones, the mistress raised her gleaming weapon, evil energy crackling all around the razor sharp edges. She toyed with it a little, allowing the ring-blade to slowly swing back and forth.

With a laugh, she dropped it on the nightingale's neck, severing its head. The birds all around her exploded into song, victorious with the kill.

The mistress watched the blood pool around the feathered corpse. She lifted her weapon, swiped her finger over the warm liquid on its silver surface. She rolled it on her fingers, then smeared the blood all along her lips. She wheezed a laugh, regarding her reflection in the ring-blade. Perfection.

"Ah, much better. Now then; stop with the celebration, _mon_ _bébés_! We have another show to put on!"

She faced the west, where her now dead Watcher had flown in. She smiled, clicked her tongue.

"The stage is set. The actors are in place. And _Le Rossignol_ is the star. Curtain's up."

The nightingales flew off towards the west when she waved her hand, black, tattered lace gloves hanging from her fingers.

"Presenting:_ La Tragédie du Corbeau_."

–  
TBC  
--

Notes: GOD. DAMN. OHMYGOD, NO MORE, PLZ.

Long chapter, but that's to make up for the uber long wait.

ANYWAYS, I like this chapter for some reason, even though all that happened was

A) Talim got weird cause Tira was nekkid  
B) Talim then had a seizure because I am a bitchface  
C) The Other was actually pretty awesome  
D) OC was introduced (sorta)  
E) ???  
F) PROFIT.

Lol, anyways, sorry for the gratuitous French in this last part, but the OC is evil and evil people are French.

NOTICE I SAID EVIL PEOPLE ARE FRENCH. NOT FRENCH PEOPLE ARE EVIL. BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE RACIST.

Anyways, the French is pretty basic. Moi = me, oui = yes, non = no, petit = little, fille = girl, ami = friend, bébés = babies.

Le Corbeau = The Raven  
Le Rossignol = The Nightingale

and finally _La Tragédie du Corbeau_ = The Tragedy of the Raven.

Yikes. Exams are tomorrow. Gotta skeedaddle then.


End file.
